#when doing it ‘correctly’ would not have taken that much effort

[mxzero]

DULLED HIM

Synopsis: Zoro found it difficult to detest you any longer

Count: 3003 wrds

a/n . . slightly rushed ending due to motivation loss?

He didn’t like you.

The very moment Luffy deemed you one of the crew, it took core strength not to make a fuss about it. As much of a fool he could be, a Captain’s decision would always be final. Still, that didn’t mean he had to like you. Zoro failed to perceive what you brought to the table, what made you useful other than your place as another bland decoration on the Sunny when he walked by. If he paid much attention, he’d see your effort—perhaps if he squinted hard enough. Your existence was but a bother, and overtime, he’d gotten sick of saving your hide in the midst of a fight all because you couldn’t sense the enemy’s approach quick enough. 

Zoro resisted complaining, as it’d ruin his image. The great swordsman, destined to be the best of all time, complaining over a crewmate that couldn’t even hold a sword correctly? Foolishness. He’d covered Nami and Usopp’s asses on days end, and you'd have to be no different. Of course, there were various aspects of you that he couldn't ignore completely. Like your captivating smile that tended to rival Luffy’s when you were happy enough. 

..Not that he glanced at your face long enough to view it. No, not at all. 

You'd prove to be a liability in no time. Then they'll see. They'll all see how much of an extra, useless weight you were to carry. Alas, it appeared the swordsman was incorrect himself, and for once, doubted his judgment. 

“Roronoa!”

“Hah?”

Zoro had taken it upon himself to venture into the green depths of the island’s forest, departing from the docked Sunny with little to no awareness of his surroundings. Had he stayed put to listen, he would've known a sheet of frigid snow would make its appearance on the island. It was bad enough he had a poor perception of his surroundings—to navigate through weather as severe as this was but a death sentence. Zoro wandered aimlessly, and unfortunate for him, not even his sharpened blades could fend off the chilling breeze that ravaged his body. The fire of determination is what kept his soul warm. 

The utterance of his name is what pulled him from his concentration.

Swiveling his head around, his available eye zeroed in on you in no time. His hand had instinctively fallen to the hilt of his sheathed sword, his reddened nose wrinkling with mild annoyance. “Thought I told you to quit callin’ me that.” He grumbled, though instead of acknowledging his dissatisfaction, your ears focused on the evident frog in his throat. Unlike him, you came prepared for the weather that Nami forecasted, clad in a lengthy, pink wool coat, insulated bottoms, and a pair of boots ensuring your feet stayed protected. 

The snow crunched underneath your boots with every pounding step you took, a look of relief filtering through now that you'd confirmed the swordsman’s well-being. Not that you doubted he could fend for himself. Zoro, veiling his confusion underneath the impregnable walls of his unwavering resolve, stared at you with puzzlement. Why were you out here in such conditions? “I was looking all over for you!” You smiled, the warmth of it stumping the swordsman further, though he brushed it aside. He squinted, his fingers tightening around his sword with suspicion. “What for?” He quirked a brow, challenging your reasoning head-on. He didn't need a pansy to guide him back to the ship, even if he had passed the same frail tree five times now. The slashes he'd carved into the bark made it obvious. 

“Well, you hadn't returned from when I last saw you leave– and I didn't want Luffy to eat your dinner because you didn't show up.” You explained your reasoning, but even then, Zoro didn't budge. You paused mid-explanation to spot your crewmate’s unusual flaws within his appearance. Speculating he might've caught a cold from enduring the icy breeze all this time, you did what anyone with sympathy would do. Zoro’s grip loosened up, observing with caution as you removed the flowy scarf that ornamented your choice of attire. 

His stoicism wavered once it made its home around his neck. 

The soothing fabric hugged his neck, and with you looping it around his broad shoulders to ensure he stayed protected, an unfamiliar warmth hugged his heart as well. “You should be more careful, marimo.” Your voice had always been the epitome of euphonic, but with the lack of obnoxious voices from the rest of the crew to drown it out, it was almost a rich noise to his ears. He wasn't even upset you called him out of his name. His fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it up to shield his nose from being further assaulted by falling snowflakes. While you didn't have the gall to admit it aloud, you thought the garment was worn nicely by him, especially it previously belonging to you. 

Zoro would soon come to know your generosity didn't cease there. 

The hairs of his nape stood at the atypical brush of your thumbs against his flesh, working your fingers to cover up his exposed skin by grasping his coat, closing it up as best as you could. “Nami says you’ll have trouble getting back, so lemme help!” Your confidence brooked no room for objection, sealing the deal with the way you began to drag him along by his wrists. It felt odd, but not once did the swordsman even begin to struggle against your touch. Despite the sickening fuzzy feeling inside, your words only then registered.

“She said what?”

“Walk faster!”

Dinner. 

It went the same, per usual. The liveliness of the kitchen seemed vacant, quiet enough for Zoro to catch the sound of bubbles surfacing in the blue depths that kept their ship afloat. He hardly discerned the ringing clinks of cutlery against their plates, as though such clamorous sounds that once grated on his nerves no longer existed. Even plucking a scallop from his plate made little to no noise, the swordsman beginning to wonder if it was the work of some paranormal activity. No, he doubted it. That cotton candy-haired pest was far away from him. 

Zoro’s eye lifted from his plate at last, and as it did, the food he chewed caught in his throat. The mouths of his crewmates, they certainly were moving—fast enough to where he couldn't read their lips no matter how hard he tried. From the way Luffy and Usopp’s chests oscillated from their laughter, Brook’s obnoxious movements that had him out of his seat—there should be nonstop racket ricocheting off the walls at lightspeed. But no. 

Their boisterous captain pulled his infamous party trick; shoving chopsticks up his nostrils and proceeded to make faces no regular human being could possibly manage. While most erupted into muted cackles, Zoro's heart threatened to leap out of his chest the very moment a single voice ripped through the quiet cursed upon his ears. 

It was you. 

Zoro’s attention snapped toward the one seated across him, the scallop that lodged itself in his esophagus hitting the pit of his stomach like a bullet. The way you laughed wasn't anything he had ever heard before, and he came across many adversaries that sparked the desire to dice the meat of their tongues just to silence them. The droplets of mirth that made your eyes glossier reeled him in like a damn fish, the hand that tried to cover that widening smile while you laughed useless. He hadn't the foggiest idea as to why the golden sound that was your amusement was what called out to him, but in a way, he didn't wish to hear anything else at that moment. 

Hearing his own thoughts then, Zoro pushed himself up abruptly from the table, resulting in the shaft of his encased swords knocking Robin’s glass over. The sound that finally transferred through was the glass shards scattering across the floor. Not only that, but his faltering breaths that made his chest tight became a pounding disturbance to his eardrums. Silence shrouded the kitchen then, the beady eyes of your crewmates including your own now locked with the startled first mate. 

“Watch it, one-eyed wonder.” Sanji hissed, the cook having already moved to clean up the mess. Zoro, not one to take such insults, opened his mouth to retaliate. “Zoro,” It was your voice that rose instead, his lips pressing into a straight line. That concern in your tone, it was nothing more than pity. He loathed it. With a sudden jerk of his ankle, Zoro smashed a shard underneath his boot until it crumbled into meaningless particles. More specifically, until the reflection of his scrunched face of confusion was no more. 

The swordsman retired from the suffocating room without an exchange of words, his posture as he exited a silent request he be left to his own devices. Smartly, no one rose from their seats, left to pick at the leftovers on their now lukewarm plates. Luffy, on the other hand, happily extended his arm across the table, prepared to swipe Zoro's leftovers if it weren't for Nami’s chopsticks pinning his rubbery hand to the table. 

You stayed behind to help Sanji with the dishes, even though the lovelorn chef insisted you get your rest. Truth be told, you wanted a distraction. Zoro valued his alone time, they all knew that. It was practically a virus how much you wanted to help him—even though you weren't entirely sure as to what his troubles stemmed from in the first place. You weren't a tough fighter like the swordsman, the captain, or the cook. But at the same time, you hardly backed out either, knowing you were a weak link. Still, you made it a personal mission to prove your worth to them all. 

You still had a debt to repay, after all. 

So caught up in your thoughts, Sanji’s constant calling of your name didn't register until now. “Y/N!” The cook’s voice startled you, the dish you'd just finished cleaning flying from your hands. Sanji moved twice as fast to retrieve it, the plate balanced on his erect knee while his arm saves you from quite the fall. “Sorry..” You were quick to apologize, though the accepting smile on the cook’s face cleared up your guilt. “You're losing your edge tonight, Y/N. I'll finish up here, just get some damn good rest.” His advice was the best course of action, it seemed. With a short nod of understanding, you dried your hands off with a nearby towel. Of course, the thoughts of dinner didn't quite leave. 

“I don't think Zoro's feeling well.” You sighed, folding the towel up once more and placed it back on the counter. Sanji bent his cigarette between his fingers, mulling over your concern with a fraction of a contrasting feeling. “I'm sure that muscle-head is fine..” He scoffed, tendrils of smoke billowing in the gap between you both. The cook's words did little to console you, especially when you had a strong gut feeling that you were correct. Noticing the flame in your eyes that refused to be extinguished, Sanji sighed. “..but it wouldn't hurt to check on him,” He added rather late, his hand giving your shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You're good at that.” His words then gave you enough courage to set out in search of your troubled first mate. 

You were grateful for your suitable choice of wear, otherwise, you were certain you'd keel over from the unbearable chill just beyond the door. Stepping out onto the deck, you drew in a breath, bracing yourself for what could possibly come. Zoro would be found and consulted, you swore on it. With your goal in mind, you began to wander the Sunny, caring not for the snowflakes that began to teem from the star-spangled sky, for such minor inconveniences wouldn’t keep you from doing what felt right.

The frustrated grunt somewhere behind you piqued your interest.

Your eyes snapped that direction in an instant, but to your disappointment, there wasn’t anyone there. Until you looked up, that is. The crow’s nest, and within the dome-shaped hut, the training room where Zoro released his pent-up frustration. You felt foolish for not thinking to look there first. 

And so, with a sudden surge of energy, the bottom of your sandals slapped against the floorboards to reach the ropes surrounding the mast. You scaled them with efficiency, not that you were the best at climbing such wild ropes, but your determination kept you going. Soon enough, you reached the hut and poked your head through the entrance within the floor. You dodged the flying attack by the skin of your teeth, ducking in time to avoid being diced like the training dummy just behind you. Before you knew it, the clatter of swords hitting the ground nearly had you fall out of shock. 

It was the sudden, unyielding grip on the collar of your shirt that kept you from plummeting to the deck far below. 

Your gaze gradually lifted, wantonly zeroing in on the beaded-sweat chest before ultimately meeting the scowl of the first mate you were in search for. “..Thank—” But before you could proceed with expressing your gratitude, you were dropped onto the wooden floor with little warning. Naturally, you rolled, and as you did, Zoro’s foot that stamped your back, albeit gently, kept you from hitting a dumbbell. “What, long-nose?” He spat, but instead of acknowledging the venom, your attention was drawn by the moniker. “I'm not Usopp.” Your mouth formed a slight pout, Zoro's eyes narrowing at the sight of it. “With the way you stick your nose in other people's damn business, you might as well be.”  

You found yourself incapable of retorting, as he did have somewhat of a point. 

Of course, to bicker wasn't what you came here for. “Ror– Zoro,” You cleared your throat, a relieved exhale leaving your lips once Zoro's foot lifted from your back. He looked down on you with a glint of an emotion you struggled to identify. The question you planned to ask, it had been answered. Zoro's eyes squinted, a sudden tension gripping his face. That reddened nose of his twitched, and before long, the imminent eruption that was his sneeze rattled his bones. You climbed to your feet in an instant, but the swordsman’s hand that revealed his outward facing palm forced you to a halt.

“I'm fine.”

“Your ears turn red when you lie.”  

Zoro quirked a brow, his hand instinctively moving to cover his jewelry-ornamented ear. His face flushed with annoyance at the sight of your smug smile, the realization that he’d be duped being rather humbling. “You think yer funny.” It wasn’t a question, more of a bold statement of a fact—not that he’d admit such a thing. You weren’t above referring to yourself as a comedian when appropriate, but now wasn’t the time. “This is why I told you to cover up!” You frowned, and his scoff that dismissed your evident concern irked you further. Zoro’s eyebrows seemed to crease, for the sound of your words being sautéed in venom was a harmony hadn’t heard. He didn’t like it. Your clenched fists let up, your eyes beginning to follow his hand movements with a sense of caution. 

The swordsman swiped his swords from the ground, sheathing them effectively. The tautness of your face eased up at the sight of Zoro unraveling your gifted scarf from around his arm, just underneath his bandanna. How you hadn’t noticed it before, it was a question left unanswered. The swordsman extended it out to you, yet your declining of what belonged to you baffled him on the inside. And so, he took action. Your muscles stiffened as you processed the encircling of strong arms around your leaner torso, pulling you into his bare chest with little to no warning.

“You worry too much. S’just a cold.” Roronoa grumbled, but as he spoke, you took the time to swathe him in the scarf, wrapping it around his neck carefully. “You’re a fool.” You murmured, nose twitching as the scent of sweat-slicked skin infiltrated your senses, caused by the close proximity. “Why’d you leave dinner early?” At long last, the million dollar question fell from your lips, and it seemed his nose began to burn brighter. He planned to pull apart from you then, but it was useless once you wrapped your arms around him as well, drawing him closer.

“Didn’t like the food.” Zoro shrugged, though the both of you seemed to know what a lie that was. Breathing a sigh of exasperation, your hands slid up his brawny back, up to cradle his cheeks in your palms. The gesture puzzled him, enough to briefly shatter the intricately crafted facade of collectiveness he bore. “Don’t lie to me..” You playfully warned, feeling the way he subtly leaned into the touch of your hands, thumbs smoothing along his cheekbones. Zoro’s expression softened, chewing the bottom of his lip with mild annoyance. However, as your thumb brushed against the bottom, thumbing the swelling with a tender touch, he found it difficult to resist.

In a swift motion, his lips met yours in a messy, fervent kiss, gradually softening into something tender and affectionate. Instinctively, your fingers wrapped around the back of his head to pull him impossibly closer, granting him the wish of claiming your lips so hungrily. The fingers of your free hand traced the broadened chest before you, your occupied hand cradling the head of the man you wanted. The two of you parted reluctantly, Zoro’s tongue sweeping across his lips to savor the sweet taste of your own. 

“M’not lyin’,” Zoro breathed, pinching your chin to tilt your head up further, “..but it tasted better comin’ from you.” The smirk tugging at his lips sent a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, unable to resist the smile that made your cheekbones ache.

[quillyfied]

There’s something my dad used to very exasperatedly tell us kids about the way we did our chores, how we would “spend more time and do more work to NOT do the chore or not do it correctly than it would take to just do the job right the first time.”

Something about Ed driving the crew relentlessly from raid to raid. Something about Ed steering directly into a storm. Something about Ed taking the time to chop the wheel off the ship. Something about Ed dragging and loading a cannon to point at the mast. Something about Ed putting all his energy into forcing the crew to do something about it.

Something about putting more effort into taking the long way around and what that could mean.

[i-am-married-to-keith-kogane]

Keith dating hcs please!! and im so glad that their is people still doing voltron! i love that show so so much and I feel like the fandom is dying so quickly😭

hiii!!

ofc i can do keith dating headcanons lovely! im so glad you like voltron too, its taken over my life once again and its sad coming back to the fandom with just a little of us left but i want to continue posting/writing about voltron to keep it alive on tumblr with some other talented creators!!

✦KEITH KOGANE DATING HCS✦

✦before confessing his feelings to you, he had to ask lance for some help

✦it took a lot of contemplating and hyping up but he finally got there!

✦keith would struggle a little at the beginning of the relationship since he's worried you'll leave him for someone better. he would spend nights just staring at his ceiling and thinking how much better off you would be with someone else.

✦though overtime those thoughts would fade away but not completely.

✦he would try to flirt with you, but he'd become very flustered and awkward but you thought it was very adorable by the effort he'd put into it!

✦he is very against PDA (aka public display of affection)!!

✦if you break it, expect a very grumpy, pouty and flustered keith.

✦keith is VERY clingy in your relationship, he’ll just want to constantly be near you especially in social situations.

✦keith gets jealous, he just does. he's scared people are gonna steal you from him.

✦once while on a mission with him, this alien took it upon themself to start flirting with you (because who wouldn't😍), keith caught up on this and let me tell you, he was mad.

✦he completely broke the 'no PDA' rule. he wrapped you around in his arm and said "excuse me, but she's taken" with a deadpanned face. man was not having it.

✦i feel like his galra side would make him very territorial, which includes things that belong to him and his personal space.

✦your his and he's yours.

✦surprisingly the only thing that he let pass from his 'no PDA' rule is hand holding, ONLY if he knows that no one else notices (especially Lance or Pidge, they just love to tease him).

✦but they know, they're just snickering quietly to themselves, but shiro keeps them quiet for keith's sake(space dad!!)

✦okay if you guys sleep together, keith demands morning kisses. its the first thing he needs wants. when he wakes up don't be surprised to be showered in kisses!

✦this man does NOT care about morning breath, he just loves you so much!!

✦though, if you sleep in your own beds let say, he'll just brush his teeth (as will you🫵)

✦i feel like keith's hugs will be super comforting and long, especially if he's feeling a little sleepy (and he may just hug you around the other paladins if he is really tired)

✦(yk sometime you just got to break the rule, he just can't resist hugging you. it just makes him feel so warm and comforted.)

✦we all know that keith loves you to bits but he does get embarrassed about what the others will think when they see him so lovey dovey and intimate.

✦he needs to keep the tough guy act okay, its a full-time job (its really not)

✦but just keep reminding him to be himself ☻!!

OKAY WE'VE MADE IT TO CUDDLING!!!!

✦(im sorry i just love cuddles💗 ahhhh)

✦this man would sell his soul for a cuddle from you. IN PRIVATE sadly.

✦he loves little snuggles before drifting off to sleep after an exhausting day.

✦he loves when you pepper kisses all over his face, neck, collarbone and shoulders

✦he also loves when you play or run your fingers through his hair, he finds it so soothing.

✦also don't deny any of his affection! IT WILL SEND THIS DUDE INTO SEVERE POUTY-NESS.

✦he just loves you so so so much!! so it will break his heart (not literally).

✦your the definition of the sun to his moon.♥︎

(i dont think i used that correctly ☹︎ but trust the thought process)

✦you always have to remind him that if he dies, you die too. in hope to make him less reckless on missions (he's still reckless).

✦also before he leaves for a mission he always gives you a sweet little kiss at the forehead/temple and definitely expect a kiss when he gets back!!

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

✦in the end he loves you dearly and would do anything for you ☻♥︎

★。＼｜／。★

-love,

. marra✧˖*°࿐

★。／｜＼。★

[lucyrose191]

Oh oh, can you write a pt2 of your kimi raikkonen fic? The date 🥰

SPOKEN ADMIRATION| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Author’s note; not too sure how I feel about this, it’s not my best work.

Pairing; Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary; Whilst the rest of the grid are out partying and celebrating Kimi and Y/N spend some time alone getting to know each other in his hotel room together

Warning; Implied age gap but not specified.

F1 Master List , Part 1

Y/N didn’t know if she understood Kimi correctly when he had invited her to his room for ‘a drink’. These days that could mean anything, if it was anyone else she’d assume they were asking her out as a sort of relaxed date to get to know each other but this was Kimi Raikkonen, possibly one of the hardest people in the world to understand.

Did he want to get to know her better?

She had never really payed much attention to men, she had most definitely been approached and asked out before but with a goal as ambitious as hers growing up she found it best to focus on racing rather than any other aspects of her life, racing was just more important to her.

She also wasn’t really a fan of how immature guys her age could be but Kimi wasn’t her age, their conversations had been pretty limited but she couldn’t deny that he was charming in his own way.

His ‘iciness’ had never deterred her in any way because she herself was like that too, in fact now that she thought about it she seemed to enjoy the press conferences much more when Kimi was there with her, their personalities, as blunt or ‘harsh’ as they could be, fit well together and she knew the journalists hated interviewing them together but Y/N found herself enjoying those interviews more than any others.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, she hadn’t put much effort in her outfit, she thought if she was simply going to be spending the evening with Kimi in his room then comfort was the way to go and settled on a jogger and hoodie set, even if Kimi did want it to be a sort of date she doubted he’d have put in much effort as well.

Her hair looked great though and she had minimal makeup on and deemed it enough for the night.

Arriving at his hotel room, her nerves had skyrocketed, something she wasn’t familiar with as she was usually confident but it seemed all that confidence had left her tonight.

Not wanting to stand in the hallway of the hotel all night, she knocked on the door, it only took a few seconds for him to answer.

She was taken by surprise.

He was wearing a grey top with matching sweats but it was the glasses on his face that had caught her attention.

He looked hot.

"I didn’t know you wore glasses," she commented lightly as she walked past him into his room, taking notice of how uncannily tidy it was, she didn’t imagine him as a near freak but he surely wouldn’t have cleaned his room just because she was coming, would he?

"Just at night," he shrugged, gesturing to his bed for bed to sit whilst he walked round the other side where there was a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting.

Y/N gave him a funny look. "Since when did you drink wine? I thought you were into the hard stuff."

Kimi looked at her before looking towards the floor as though trying to hide a smile knowing she was right. "You prefer wine," he simply stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N stood for a moment and stared, letting his words sink in. "I do-but, well, I thought you invited me here to try and get me drunk? I was expecting whiskey and jäger bombs."

Kimi sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed, popping open the bottle of wine and filling the glasses half way. "I didn’t invite you here to get drunk," he muttered, turning himself around to hand over her glass before lying his body against the headboard, his own glass in hand resting against his stomach.

She took the glass and mimicked his movements, both lying next to each other as she thought about his words and what to say in return. "Why did you invite me here?" She eventually settled on asking, not really wanting to beat around the bush.

Kimi pursed his lips at her question, eyes trained on the ceiling as he tried to find the words, he couldn’t just blurt it out, that would be wrong.

Y/N turned her head and looked at him curiously, "Do you like me, like, are you attracted to me?" She asked bluntly.

She watched as a subtle pink tinge blossomed on his cheeks and tried to press down the smile that was trying to appear on her face.

"S’ppose so," he responded, his voice that usual Finnish gruff that seems to be more prominent when he tried to be nonchalant or brush a topic to the side.

"You suppose so?" Y/N asked, biting down on her bottom lip, feeling he mouth threatening to stretch wider into a smile.

She wanted to laugh when he simply shrugged in response, knowing that if this was going to go anywhere then it was up to her because getting this far was probably way out of his comfort zone and it seemed he was really trying. "Did you ask me here as a date?"

"It was just a thought- Sebastian thought it would be a good idea-"

"-This was Sebastian’s idea?" The smile fell from her face.

Kimi rubbed a palm over his face as he saw the look on her face, he raised the glass to his mouth and downed its entirety before sitting up and facing her properly.

"I wanted it, he pushed me. I’m glad he did. I hoped you’d be open to the idea but I know you aren’t interested in finding- I just thought-"

"You really aren’t good with words, are you?" Y/N smiled at him, finding his rambling quite adorable.

"You’re right though, I’m not really interested in finding someone, or well- I wasn’t but then you asked which took me by surprise and if you wanted to then I’d give it a go, us two. I’d rather keep it on the down low though, for now at least, until it’s something."

A half a smile had grown on Kimi’s face as Y/N had rambled, relief filling his chest at her words. He was honestly more than fine with keeping it quiet, whatever it was, it would be nice to figure out things without people prying and he wouldn’t want to be the cause of her receiving backlash.

He couldn’t give a shit about anything that’s said about him but Y/N has worked so hard to get to where she is and he didn’t want to affect that, besides he was planning on retiring in the next few year so after that then there’d really be no issue.

"Are you okay with that?" She asked, not knowing what his silence meant.

Kimi looked at her in the eye and nodded, revelling in the pure joy on her face.

"So, what does Kimi Räikkönen do when he’s not busy with his hobby?" Y/N tried to get to know him.

"Bwoah, I don’t know," he blew out a large puff of air as he thought before shrugging "Sleep."

Y/N rolled her eyes "Of course you do, that’s all I ever see you doing," she teased.

"I don’t want to talk about me, I want to know about you," he told her strongly which she relented to knowing that there was time for her to get to know him.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything," he immediately responded as though he didn’t even need to think about it.

Y/N looked down to hide her smile before looking back up into his eyes that were sitting intently on her, his eyes held a soft gaze that she had never seen him have before; not realising that it actually appeared quite often whenever she was around.

"Well," she began. "When I was younger, I used to be quite bothered about what the boys in karting would say about me but then my dad told me that it was stupid that I even listened when I was easily beating them on the track and would be able to beat them with my fists too if he allowed me to, ever since then I just imagined myself punching everyone whenever they said something about me, I still do it now, the amount of times I’ve imagined punching Will Buxton in the face is ridiculous." She laughed melodically causing Kimi to smirk.

"My favourite colour is light blue, it has been since I was born because my parents got told I was a boy and had gotten me a blue stuffed rabbit that I still have to this day. I’ve always wanted to drive for RedBull because Sebastian drove for the team and he was my favourite driver, I loved how ruthless he was."

Kimi was never going to tell Sebastian that because if he found out the woman Kimi liked had seen Seb as an idol then the German would never let him live it down.

"Something you might not like is that I actually hate partying and getting drunk because I got alcohol poisoning as a teenager and I love that you’re always yourself in front of the cameras and show exactly who you are and where you’re here, to race, you couldn’t care less about the fame and I admire that."

As she finished speaking she looked him in the eyes, appreciating the thoughtful look on his face and the soft curve of his lips.

They simply stared at each other for a while, shoulders touching and wine glasses long forgotten, Y/N still half filled.

It was a subconscious move in the way Kimi’s face inched closer to hers, he hadn’t even noticed but she did and mimicked him until their noses were lightly brushing against each other.

Eventually, it was Y/N that inched forward and pressed her lips against his. She had never experienced a fluttering stomach from a kiss before, right now was a first. There were butterflies flying around crazily in her abdomen and every thought had disappeared, leaving her a cloudy mind.

When they pulled apart for air, they kept their bodies close, not really wanting to lose their connection entirely, both searching the others eyes for any sign of regret but pleasantly found none.

Kimi lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, silently pulling her into his embrace.

Not much needed to be said between the two, there was now a clear unspoken agreement between the two that it was now the start of something that would potentially be great, if not the start of what could be their entire lives,

Both were looking forward to it, grateful that a simple night together could’ve made so much progress.

[imaginesmai]

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[jadedxhearts]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝

Law and you have spent far too much time apart, intimately. When you think you’re going to lose your mind from desperation, he finally gives in, a certain “cure” in mind to treat you.

Originally posted in Oct 8 2023

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills! (this one might be slighter better?)

It was difficult to not notice the various things that had set off certain alarms in your mind. Not to say those alarms were concerning nor bad in nature, no.

It started during a routine check up, about two weeks ago. You were sat in a chair in the operation room aboard the Polar Tang, allowing Law to do whatever he needed to check your general health. He’d taken your temperature, other vitals, the basics. But it was when he’d began feeling around your neck, presumably for your lymph nodes, that a shudder went down your spine. 

For one short moment, his hand had wrapped around your neck as though he was possessively holding onto you, much like he did during… other times. Law had been so busy these days, constantly working hard to make sure his submarine was being run correctly and efficiently. He tended to be this way, always, but as of lately, things seemed more hectic on the ship. You really couldn’t come up with an answer why, though.

However, these long working hours for your lover meant that he generally didn’t have much time to spare. Especially not for things such as sex. Your body longed for him, your fingers proving to not be enough. You’d tried to be cool about it, using body language and longing looks to try and get your message across. But Law either seemed too tired, or downright uninterested. You could tell by his mannerisms, though, especially during the checkup, that he longed for you too.

So when his hand had just barely wrapped around your neck, leaving you gasping for air as if he’d choked you, all feelings went straight down between your legs, your heart pounding as you became too excited too quickly. But your routine checkup wasn’t over, and Law had already moved on from his ‘accident’. 

But then another thing happened not even five minutes later. His gloved hands kept grazing your body, touch lingering for much longer than it should have. Again and again, these things kept happening, turning you on even more; making you more desperate for the doctor’s touch.

You’d tried to initiate that evening, but Law was exhausted, barely making an effort to kick off his boots and change into pajama pants before he’d promptly collapsed into bed. 

And now here you were, two entire weeks later, still having gone unsatisfied. You honestly struggled, having to go about your day as normal, meanwhile your brain remained filled with images of Law doing certain things to you. His tattooed chest glistening as he hovered over you, shoving your body down into the pillows as he filled you up so deliciously, among other images of past times with him. God, you needed him so badly.

You were curled up in bed, hugging a pillow tightly as you tried to fall asleep, trying to not lose your sanity as you pushed away any lewd thoughts about Law. It was so, so difficult, though. The pillow was slipping down between your legs as you clung to it, the plushness of it brushing against where you yearned for Law most. Eventually, it was in a spot where you could rub yourself against it, if you so wished. The thought seemed so dirty, and you couldn’t help but hope Law would walk into the bedroom and catch you as you began to move your hips, biting your lip harshly as you slowly humped the pillow.

But then you were interrupted, practically throwing the pillow away from yourself as the den-den-mushi on your nightstand began to ring. Calming yourself down, you answered it with a click, only to be surprised as Law’s voice came through.

“Y/n? You awake?” He asked, voice sounding… off. You couldn’t quite figure it out, though.

“Yes,” you choked out, feeling your heart hammering in your chest as you breathed heavily. Maybe he’d hear how desperate you were and come back to bed.

“Meet me in the operation room,” he instructed, and you now noticed how seductively he spoke. It made your cunt throb, and you obliged happily, already leaping out of the bed. 

You hadn’t even responded to him. You’d honestly forgotten to through your excitement, rushing out of your bedroom to sprint over to the operation room. After all, there could only be one reason why Law was in there, demanding you to meet him there at this hour.

Opening the doors to the large room, you discovered Law leaning against the table, arms folded in front of his chest as he smirked down at you. The tall man wore his doctor's coat over a tank top and his usual jeans. The other key differences were that his hat was removed, sitting on a counter nearby where he stood. And the other two things being that he had on gloves, as well as the fact that there was a not so hidden bulging in his jeans. He looked painfully hard, even through the constricting fabric.

Hands folded in front of you, you quickly moved to stand in front of him, innocently looking up at your lover. “You wanted me, Law?” You asked, voice ever so slightly pitched up to add a sense of cuteness, with an underlying sultriness to it. 

He chuckled, using one gloved finger to tilt your chin up toward him, face inching closer to yours. “Figured you needed a ‘check up’, hm?”

“B-but, I just had one two weeks ago,” you feigned innocence, pretending to be unaware of his antics. Though it was evident that both of you knew what game was being played here.

“I think you need a different kind, though,” Law hummed, firmly kissing you for just a second, before biting down onto your lips. “I want you undressed and up on the table, understood?”

With a sweet giggle, you nodded and eagerly began stripping yourself of your clothing. Once you were down to your panties, you angled your head to face Law, licking your lips as you slowly slid the thin fabric down your legs. Though, before they could even reach under your ass, you felt his hands on you, lifting you up to sit on the operation table. And while he’d quickly gotten you up on it, Law then went at an agonizingly slow pace, carefully pulling your panties down your legs, eyes never leaving yours for a second as they slipped off your feet, now bunched up in his hands.

He didn’t say a word to you. Law simply examined your panties, more than likely noticing the wet spot in them. He smirked, looking between you and the delicate lace for a second, all before setting them down on the counter behind him. 

Then, Law returned to you, placing both hands on either side of you, leaning dangerously close to your nude body. His gray eyes looked you up and down, noticeably stopping to stare at your full breasts. Then back up to your face, where he seemingly lingered on your lips. 

“By simply observing you, I cannot say whether or not you are… sufficient.”

“Sufficient?” You raised an eyebrow, echoing Law’s words.

“In satisfaction,” he explained, before continuing on with the act. “Tell me, Y/n. Do you have any symptoms?”

You slowly nodded, bashfully looking away. “Um… yes, I have this ache. It’s soo painful, like I’m throbbing and need something.”

“Where is the ache?” Law asked, sounding as bored as ever. Perhaps he was more desperate than he’d assumed, and was growing tired of the act?

With that thought in mind, you widen your legs, revealing your wet pussy to him. Taking his right hand in yours, you bring Law’s fingers to the supposed ache, gently pushing the gloved finger tips into your folds with a whine.

“I see,” he hummed. “And I know of the treatment you need.”

“You do?” You bit your lip, deciding you were also growing far too desperate to keep up the act. You needed him. Now.

“Yeah,” he deadpanned, face moving beside yours as he whispered, “you need my fucking cock in you, that’s what.”

His hushed voice so close to your ear sent shivers down your spine. 

“Please, Law,” you whined, grabbing onto him. “Make me feel good, please doctor!”

Law reacted quickly, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans, swiftly pulling out his hard length. He was probably aching just as much as you were. With a low chuckle, he pulled you closer to him, using one hand to rub his cock’s tip against your wet folds, the other hand landing on the side of your face as he brought your lips together, kissing you with such desperate fever. 

“Fuck, Law, please,” you moaned, dragging out your words to show more desperation. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he fully inserted his length in you, filling you to the brim as his pulsating cock squeezed inside of your velvety walls. 

You both moaned, the lewd noises spilling into each other’s mouths as you swallowed them up. Fuck, he felt so good in you. The stretch was delicious, you thought, as you clamped down on him. There was no way you were lasting long tonight.

Law hissed as you cunt squeezed his cock, trapping him within you. ���F-fuck, Y/n,” he choked out, “quit clenching on me like that, I’m gonna cum if you keep it up.”

You whined, trying to relax the muscles within your cunt. And after another moment of sitting like that, Law finally pulled his hips backwards, quickly snapping them forward with force, ripping loud moans from your throat.

He pounded into you, creating the nastiest wet noises you’d ever heard your pussy produce, combined with the sound of his skin slapping against yours.. You were glad the operation room walls were thick, as you had a feeling all the combined sounds would wake your resting crewmates otherwise. 

Your fingernails dug into the fabric of Law’s coat, gripping him as your whole body trembled from the sensations. He held you tightly, hovering over you as you laid back on the table now, legs in the air. If somebody were to walk in, there was no doubt about what you and Law were doing. 

Before long, you were screaming his name, cunt slick with your juices as you felt the tight knot within you about to burst. You were a moaning, desperate mess, ready to succumb to everything Law was doing to you. And it seemed he wasn’t far behind, as his thrusts became sloppy and inconsistent, heavy pants falling from his open mouth.

“Law, fuck, fuck, please cum in me,” you half whined, half begged.

“Already planned on it,” he grunted, snapping his hips against yours harshly, “you need your medicine, after all, hm?”

A whimper escaped you, and you felt your body let go as you began to cum around his cock. Law urged you on, praising you for being such a good girl, saying you needed just a little bit more of his cock.

But, mid-way through his taunting, Law gasped, shoving his head down and between your breasts as his body seemingly locked up, his thrusts stopping while he was fully inside you. Cum spilled from him, filling up your spent pussy. You moaned from the sensations of the hot seed stuffing you, a hand flying to hold onto Law, gripping at his messy black hair. 

As you both calmed down, you put a gentler hold on Law’s hair, using both hands to hold his head as you played with the raven locks. He panted against you, hot breaths landing on the skin of your chest. Eventually, he pulled his upper body away, looking down at you before placing a kiss on your wet lips.

“So… am I cured, doctor?”

[faithisyours]

Just a Dream

Azriel x Fem!reader

Summary: after a long day you come home to the house of wind to find Azriel having a nightmare.

Warnings: fluff, comfort, talk of nightmares, mentions of family and friend death, not too detailed, though, not proof read

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: Hello, God? It’s me again. I’m here on both knees to offer you some bbg Azriel content. This man is tormented, just the way I like them. First Azriel fic, and first ACOTAR fic in general, so please don’t kill me if I get any of the lore wrong (I read these books a while ago and barely remember the plot😅). This came to me in a dream. I’m just kidding. I’m gonna quit my yapping and go now. Minors please go away. Enjoy :)

It had been a long day. Your mission had taken longer than you had expected. Rhys, your High Lord, had sent you to do a routine check on the southern border, but of course, since it was your turn to do this check, a fight had broken out, one that you had to break up, and smooth over, and make sure wouldn’t happen again, and file a report for. By the time you were done, it was already dark out.

You double checked you had completed everything you needed to do, as well as make sure you had filled out that report correctly. Gods forbid you forgot to fill in one pesky section. Rhys would be on your ass about it for weeks. Finally, when you had double checked everything and grown too tired to care if you had forgotten something, you winnowed back to the house of wind, your home.

It was quiet, not even the noise of the house settling could be heard. You tip-toed your way to the kitchen for a little something to eat, your long and busy day allowing no time for dinner. You made yourself a plate, stacking crackers, cheese, meats, and fruits atop one another. The house provided a glass of cold water for you, and you took it, thanking the house silently.

You made your way up to your room. You didn’t want to stay in the kitchen for fear you would make too much noise. So you padded up the steps and down the hallway, but before you could make it to your room, you heard muffled noises coming from inside the Shadowsinger’s chambers. At first you thought it was the noises of a well spent night, but as you grew closer, something you had no choice in doing since to get to your room you had to pass Azriel’s door, the muffled noises were that of distress.

“No, no please! Don’t!” you heard the Shadowsinger call out. He must be having a nightmare, you thought. You did not know what possessed you to open his door and walk right in, but you did. You saw the Illarian sprawled out on his massive bed, blankets tangled around his legs and damp from sweat. His bare chest heaved and glistened with a sheen of cold perspiration.

You put your plate of food and glass of water down on the dresser, then slowly closed the door behind you. You did not want anyone to find you in here, but you also did not want Azriel's nightmare to wake the whole house. You were all aware he had them, everyone in this house had them, and occasionally one would be bad enough to wake the whole floor. The fact that everyone had them made the embarrassment more manageable, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. And you did not want Azriel to be embarrassed.

You took a moment to consider how best to wake him. He was thrashing slightly, his movements becoming more rapid, and he was crying out louder now. You needed to pull him from this dream, and soon. You chose to call his name quietly, in hopes that would pull him out of his torment, but your efforts were futile. You decided you were going to have to touch him.

You made your way to the side of his bed and sat. You turned to face him, so that your right leg was on the bed, bent at the knee, body facing the headboard. You gently took his hand in yours, then slowly began tracing circles on the top of it. This seemed to stir him just a little, but not enough. He was still squirming, eyelids twitching, still calling out in distress.

“Please, don’t! Take me instead. I deserve…” he trailed off. You began calling his name, starting quiet but getting louder. You were sliding your free hand up and down his arm soothingly, the other held tight in Azriel’s scarred hand. But your efforts were still not working.

You shifted your body fully onto the bed now, kneeling next to him, making sure you weren’t pinning his wings. “Azriel, it’s just a dream. Wake up. You’re safe,” you cooed. With your free hand, you cupped his cheek, trying to stop his shaking. “Az, wake up! Please!” Your pleading was getting louder, and you were scared you were going to be the one to wake the whole floor. “It’s just a dream. You are safe. It’s just a dream.”

In an instant Azriel sat up and frantically grabbed onto you. He was disoriented, upset, and panicky, but your words calmed him. “Azriel, you were dreaming. You’re alright. It was just a dream,” you told him. You smoothed away the hair that was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Cupping his cheek, you forced his eyes to meet yours. You searched those hazel depths, trying to gauge his understanding of the situation. “It was just a dream, Az,” you repeated, and did not break eye contact until he nodded that he understood. When he started to calm down you removed your hand from his cheek, dropping it down to the hand clasped in your other one. “Just a dream,” he murmured, nodding slightly.

You suddenly became very aware that you were in a half-dressed Illarian male’s bed. Azriel was one of your dearest friends, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. It’s not like you’ve never been in his room, or seen him without a shirt, it was just never both at the same time. Trying not to dwell on it, you asked, “Do you want to talk about it,” for which he promptly shook his head. “Would you like some food?” you offered, remembering the plate of food that still sat on his dresser. He looked up at you questioningly, so you slid off the bed, walked over and grabbed the plate of food, then walked back, presenting it to him with a half-grin on your face.

“Why?” he simply asked, growing increasingly confused.

“I just got back from my mission and didn’t get the chance to eat dinner, so I was gonna take this to my room so that I wouldn't wake anyone up but I heard you, so…” you trailed off. He nodded in understanding.

“So this is your dinner?” he asked, trying not to dwell on the last part of your sentence, the fact that he was talking and you heard him. It was your turn to nod.

“Ya, but I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. You can have some,” you reassured, grabbing a grape and popping it into your mouth. You lowered the plate onto the bed next to him, then sat. Az took a cube of cheese and a cracker, then slid them into his mouth in one fell swoop. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. He was sitting up now, his sheets still tangled in his legs, but he seemed to be calming down a great deal.

“There was a fight that broke out at the border today,” you offered, trying to distract him further from what remained of his dream. “Right when I was almost done, too! I had to stay an extra two hours to smooth everything over. Ridiculous!” you exclaimed. Az breathed out a huff of amusement, a small smile making its way onto his lips. “Oh, you think it's funny?” you teased with an incredulous tone. His smile was starting to part his lips, and you couldn’t resist yourself, you smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up a strawberry and raising it to you in thanks.

“No problem,” you replied. You were about to stand up and leave, but he stopped you with a hand over yours.

“What did… what was I saying?” he asked you shyly.

“Oh um…” you were startled by his question slightly. You didn’t want to bring up a sore subject, but he was the one asking, so you guessed it was alright. “Ya know just the usual “no, please don’t”’s and the “take me instead”’s. Very chivalrous of you, might I add.” You wanted to lighten the mood a bit, but it didn’t seem to be working. There was a line between the Shadowsinger’s eyebrows, and his eyes were downcast. “You also said you deserved to go instead, but that part was a little unclear.” You didn’t mean to pry, but you were curious. And if Azriel thought he deserved to die instead of someone else because he deserved it, well you were going to have to fix that opinion real quick.

Az simply nodded. It did not seem like he wanted to elaborate on that last part, so you offered up one of your most common nightmares in hopes it would comfort him. “I often dream about my family being killed in front of me. That I am restrained or incapacitated in some way that prevents me from helping. And I always seem to offer myself in exchange for their lives. It never works, though.” His eyes were on you now, sorrow-filled hazel that glittered in the moonlight streaming through the windows. His fingers had taken up tracing lines on the hand of yours that was clasped in his.

“That's not your fault,” he whispered. You both sat there for a long minute. “I was…” he started, but seemed to think better of it. You placed your free hand over his, encouraging him to continue. He took a deep breath. “In my dream, Cassian was in trouble. He’s my brother, my closest friend, I couldn’t just do nothing. I offered myself as an alternative. Cass is so good, so much better than me. I guess I just thought… he deserves to live,” he paused, “more than I do.” he finished, and it took everything in you not to break down right in front of him.

“Azriel,” your tone was firm. “You are good. So good. You are amazing, and so so loved. And I know it was just a dream… but our thoughts influence them, and they influence us. Please believe me when I say you do not deserve to die in the place of someone else because it would be better, or because you are not good enough. You are.” Tears were threatening to pool in your eyes. Azriel was one of your closest friends, and your life would be incomplete without him in it. You lifted your hand to caress his cheek, pouring comfort and reassurance through your touch.

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said again. “For waking me up, and for your words. And for the food,” he added after a small pause. You gave him a small smile, and he returned it. You got up to leave, wanting to take a hot bath and change, but he stopped you. “Can you…can you stay, maybe?” he asked. You grinned, how could you not? You loved his awkwardness.

“Yes. But under conditions.” He waited for you to continue. “I stink, so I’m going to take a bath. And then I’ll come back in, okay? Give me thirty minutes.” he nodded once again.

You made your way to your room, plate of food and glass of water in hand. You quickly bathed, and ate, then changed into your sleeping clothes. You weren't going to lie to yourself, either. You were glad Az asked you to stay in his room. Both of you calmed each other down in a way no one else could. This was not the first time you had slept in each other's beds, either. Your relationship was strictly platonic, but Azriel’s cuddles were unmatched, and you always seemed to sleep better in his presence, the same going for him.

Once you were done bathing and changing, you made your way back to the Shadowsinger’s room. He had changed the sheets of his bed, and was now wearing a shirt. He sat propped against his headboard reading a book. You made sure to close the door behind you, then made your way over to his bed. You pulled the blankets back and crawled in, snuggling right into the side of him. He dog-eared his page in the book (an act that almost made you get back up and leave) and set it on his night stand. He sank down into his bed and wrapped his arms around you. And there you both slept, peacefully, dreaming of absolutely nothing.

[green-eyedfirework]

Ra's al Ghul was a fool, and there was only one way Dick was surviving this.

Dick adjusted the scarf covering his face, hitched Damian higher in his grip, and pressed against the stone wall, waiting anxiously for guards to pass him on their rotation.  The one benefit of a siege was that Ra's was more concerned with stopping people from coming in than letting people leave, and the guards usually posted outside Dick's door had been reassigned.

Finding Damian had been the hard part, Dick had no idea where Ra's had taken him after ripping him from Dick's weak arms after his birth four months ago, but he'd assumed—correctly—that Ra's wouldn't want a crying infant anywhere near him, heir or not.  Luckily, Dick knew where the nursery was.  He felt slightly sorry about knocking out the maids, but not enough to avoid it.

Ra's al Ghul was going to lose, and Dick wanted to be nowhere in the crossfire.

Dick had managed to make friends in the castle despite Ra's' best efforts, and it wasn't hard to notice that they were in a siege when Dick could see the fires from the tower window.  General Wilson had clearly come a lot further a lot faster than anyone had expected.  Judging by the size of the army, the castle would fall in the fortnight.

And Dick knew his likely fate.

Slade Wilson hated Ra's al Ghul for murdering his son.  It wasn't a stretch that that hatred would extend to Dick and Damian as well.  Even if Dick could somehow persuade the man to spare his life and ransom him back to Gotham, there was no way Wilson would pass up the chance to murder Ra's' heir in front of the decrepit old alpha.

"It's okay, Dami," Dick whispered to his son's hair.  It'd been the longest that Dick had held his son since he was born.  "We'll be okay."

The guards finally passed out of sight and Dick quickly crossed the yard.  There was a secret tunnel in the stonework that led out into the woods behind the castle and Dick's primary plan was to get out and make for Gotham.

Dick wasn't stupid.  Without horses, without weapons or supplies, without a place to sleep or money to buy food, they weren't going to get very far.  Dick had once been a capable fighter, but that was before he'd been locked in a tower.  Now, with an infant in tow—even if Damian was silent, sleepily content with the rare smell of his mother—he'd be lucky to make it to the mountain passes out of the Cradle, much less all the way to the border with Gotham.

"Halt!" a voice called out in the woods and Dick froze.

The far more likely outcome was that Dick would be caught by one of the innumerable soldiers combing through the woods.  Avoiding the main camp wouldn't do much, when Wilson had an entire army at their gates.  Dick took a deep breath as the squad of soldiers neared and took up positions to surround him.

"State your name and purpose," the lead soldier demanded.

Dick swallowed.  "My—my name is Dick," he said quietly, fingers tightening on Damian.  "I'm not—I'm just trying to get to the pass."

"You're awfully close to the castle."

Dick darted a glance back at the massive walls rising in the distance.  "I'm—" Dick took a deep breath, "I'm running from the castle.  I—please.  I have a baby.  I don't—I just want to go home."

The soldier stepped closer, until the torchlight illuminated Damian's face as well.  The hard lines of his face softened as Dick tried to keep his posture as that of a scared, hunted omega.  It didn't require that much acting.

"Where's home?" the soldier asked, voice softer.

"Gotham," Dick responded.  Just enough of the truth to keep it real, not enough to rouse suspicion.

"You're a long way from home."  Do you think I haven't realized?  "Okay, Dick, we'll help you get to the mountain pass—" Dick raised his head up, hope rising—"as long as you come to our camp to tell us how you got out of the castle."

Hope flickered.

"Of course," Dick said, dread pooling in his gut.

Dick knew there was a high probability of being caught by Wilson's men.  Dick knew that there was a high probability of meeting Wilson himself.  Dick knew that a scarf and some bruises were not an adequate disguise, not when he carried Ra's al Ghul's heir in his arms.

Dick knew he needed a plan for the confrontation.

It had been the sticking point of his preparations to leave.  If he was going to be executed anyway, why put in the effort of running away?  He needed something to convince Slade Wilson not to kill him, and somehow he figured knowledge of the castle wasn't going to be enough.  And even if he could convince Wilson that Ra's al Ghul cared nothing for him and thus killing Dick was no revenge at all, he couldn't save Damian like that.

Damian was Dick's son, his precious little baby, his adorable pup that he saw once a week for a half-hour if he begged Ra's long enough, but Wilson wouldn't care.  Not after what Ra's had done to him.  He'd kill Damian in his arms so that Dick could watch his son die like Wilson had watched his own son die.  And Dick would do anything, anything to avoid that.

There was really only one solution left to him.  Bargaining was useless, Dick had no power in Nanda Parbat.  Bringing up Gotham was a coin toss, Dick was an al Ghul now, and his family had written him off for dead when he'd first went to Ra's.  The only appeal Dick could make that had a chance of succeeding was a plea for Wilson's mercy.

He'd heard that Wilson was an honorable man.  A ruthless general, yes, but fair to his own men.  There was a reason half the country had risen in support of him.  Wilson commanded loyalty in a way Ra's al Ghul did not, and the old alpha had learnt that fear was an ineffective motivator.

Dick's last, diminishing hope that Dick would just be led to a captain to explain his escape and then be on his way died an ignoble death when he was ushered into the command tent.

The murmur of conversation died out with alacrity as Dick halted in front of the entrance.  The soldier who led him there stepped forward, "Apologies, sirs, but I found an omega claiming they escaped from a secret tunnel in the castle."

The weight of gazes on him intensified.  Dick lifted his gaze just slightly, scanning past faces and halting on a silver-haired alpha with an eyepatch and an icy blue eye, powerful presence evident even in a room full of commanders.

"A secret tunnel in the castle," Slade Wilson said, tone low and neutral.  His gaze was piercing.  "What's your name, omega?  And why were you trying to leave the castle in the first place?"

Dick swallowed.  There was a prayer that he could pass unnoticed, that Wilson didn't remember his face from the wedding, that no one else would recognize him, that Dick would be long gone by the time anyone connected a lone omega with a child to Ra's al Ghul's fled mate and heir.

Unfortunately, it wasn't practical.  And for all of Dick's calculations, they always ended up here.

Dick knelt, curling a hand behind Damian's head and keeping him pressed close as he bowed his head.  "My name is Richard al Ghul, General.  And I surrender to you."

Silence.  No one was breathing.  Dick certainly wasn't, heart pounding in his ears as footsteps crunched towards him.  "Get up," Wilson demanded, voice colder and darker, and Dick struggled back up to his feet.

Wilson was right in front of him now and Dick held perfectly still as the alpha tore off his scarf, baring his face.  He couldn't hide the protective flinch when Wilson's icy gaze dropped down to Damian and thankfully it moved back up to Dick.  "You surrender," Wilson said flatly.

"Yes, alpha," Dick said, tilting his head enough to bare his neck.  His heart was beating loud enough he was sure Wilson could hear it.

Surrender was an old way for people to ask for protection from packs.  It was considered dishonorable to turn away anyone who surrendered, as they had to give up any previous pack bonds to throw themselves at another pack's mercy.  It would be the height of disrepute to kill someone who'd offered their surrender.

Judging by the scent of fury coming from Slade Wilson, Dick wasn't sure if that would stop him.

Surrender wasn't used much anymore, and Dick was the enemy.  Dick doubted anyone in the tent would stop Wilson from murdering him.  But if Wilson portrayed himself as a stable, sane alternative to the homicidal Ra's al Ghul—

"Very well," Wilson snarled in a deeply displeased tone of voice, "I accept your surrender."  He grabbed Dick's arm, and before Dick could even brace himself, there were teeth sinking into his collarbone, biting down hard and deep and vicious.

Dick yelped, and lost his balance when his knees went weak, but Wilson's grip held him up until the alpha was satisfied.  He let go almost as soon as he disengaged the bite, and Dick ended up crumpling, curling over Damian in the instinctive urge to make himself a smaller target.

The newly formed pack bond throbbed down his collarbone and Dick felt sick.  It felt like less of a violation than his previous one but it was just as one-sided.

Ra's had tortured Dick to extract his revenge for the trick that sent Dick to marry Ra's in Tim's place.  Dick had no doubt that Wilson could be just as inventive, if not more.

But Wilson couldn't kill him, the same way Ra's couldn't kill him.  Pack slaying was the gravest of sins.  Dick was safe.  More importantly, Damian was safe.  And for that, Dick would endure Wilson's rage.

"You know," the low voice hummed, a hand drifting across Dick's shoulder, "I had a lot of plans for Ra's al Ghul's pack."  Fingers skimmed across the bite and up.  "I didn't know I'd be lucky enough to have them fall into my lap." The hand squeezed at the back of his neck.

The scruffing was enough to finish the job the bite had started and Dick made a startled sound as he went fully pliant, held upright by nothing more than the hand on his neck.  Damian made a low, upset sound, likely from Dick's growing distress and the new pack bonds, and began to wail.

Dick tried to shush him but he couldn't move and his voice was barely a whisper.  Wilson didn't let go, though, and pitched his voice to the rest of the tent.  "You're all dismissed.  Review the plans and come back tomorrow with revised ideas.  And double the guards—I don't want anyone sneaking in or out of camp."

A flurry of movement erupted, but Dick couldn't see it.  He could only see Wilson, crouched in front of him, glaring.

"Leaves us some time to get acquainted, hm, Richard?" Wilson said lowly.  "So we can figure out exactly why you're here."

Dick felt his stomach twist.

"If this is Ra's al Ghul's idea of a clever plan," Wilson said softly, "I will make sure you spend every day from now until you die regretting it."

~#~

Dick was stripped of his pack as soon as he was dragged to another tent—which he was expecting—and Damian—which caused something to clench in his chest, tight with panic.  Wilson's grip didn't let him go after his pup, though, and attacking would've hurt Damian, and the silver-haired girl that neatly stole Damian from his arms vibrated with the same hum of pack he could feel so he could at least trust that she wouldn't murder him.

"So you're our new little baby," the girl cooed, holding the crying pup with ease and tapping him lightly on the nose.  "Shh, it's okay, baby, no need to cry—look!  I got your nose!"

Damian was unimpressed with the trick and only cried harder.

"Rose," Wilson said flatly, "that's Ra's al Ghul's son."

Dick tensed but Rose just shrugged, still working at distracting Damian from his tears.  "Well, he's ours now, right?"  Dick swallowed, but Wilson didn't visibly disagree.

Instead, Wilson was looking at him, ignoring the shrieking baby with the calm of years of practice.  Dick was not quite so sanguine and kept twitching in Rose's direction as he tried to keep his attention on Wilson.

"Strip," Wilson ordered finally and Dick went still.

Well.  Not like it was the first time.  Dick removed his clothes carefully and folded them to the side before straightening up, entirely naked, hands at his side.  He didn't look in Rose's direction.  Ra's liked to have other people in the room too, another way to add to Dick's punishment.  He never really got over the fact that he didn't get the Wayne omega that he wanted.

Damian's crying picked up a notch and Dick winced.  "Dad," Rose said, sounding mildly irritated, she was rocking Damian back and forth, "I think he's hungry."

Wilson blew out a sharp breath.  "Feed him," he said sharply, “and then we'll get back to our conversation."

Dick took a step toward Damian before halting, throat thick.  "I—I can't—I can't feed him."

"Excuse me?"

"He had a wet nurse," Dick admitted haltingly.  Ra's had kept Dick from Damian for the entire first month of Damian's birth, no matter how desperately Dick begged, and his milk had eventually stopped.  He'd tried to feed Damian when he next got to see him, but it was an exercise in futility.

Yet another thing Ra's had taken away from him.

Wilson's judgmental expression clearly showed what he thought of Dick's inability to feed his own pup.

"Go find Wintergreen," Wilson waved irritably at Rose.  "He'll know where to find someone."  Rose looked at Dick, looked at her father, and shrugged, walking out of the tent with Damian in her arms.

Dick felt like half his heart had yanked out of his rib cage and followed her.

He didn't notice that Wilson was right in front of him until the alpha growled, "Now, back to our discussion.  Why is Ra's al Ghul's mate wandering around the woods with his heir?"

"I was—I was trying to leave.  To get to Gotham."

"Abandoning your pack?" Wilson arched an eyebrow.

"He's not my pack," Dick said stiffly.  Wilson had started to circle him and Dick resisted the urge to cross his arms.

"Your mate.  Your kingdom.  And you expect me to believe that you came here to surrender with no ulterior motive?"

"You're winning," Dick said hollowly.

"How coldly practical of you."

"You're going to breach the castle," Dick said, looking up to meet Wilson's gaze.  "You're going to defeat Ra's.  And you would've come after Damian and me.  So yes, I surrendered to you, because it was the only way to keep my pup alive."

Wilson had finished his circle and stopped in front of Dick, staring.  "Do you know what Ra's al Ghul did to my son?" he asked finally.

Dick swallowed thickly.  "I'm sorry," he tried quietly.

"Do you know what I want to do to his son?"

Dick's breath caught in his throat.  "Please," he whispered, "please, he's just a baby, please don't—I'll do anything—please don't hurt him—"

"Anything," Wilson cut him off, eyes glittering.

Dick dropped to his knees, eyes already blurry.  "Anything," he promised.  "He's a baby, please, he didn't know, he wasn't even born then."  The first tear dripped hot and wet down his cheek.  "If you want revenge, take it out on me, but not Damian, please—"

A hand wrapped around his throat cut off his pleading.  Dick choked for a moment, before realizing that the hand wasn't actually cutting off his air and he could take shallow breaths.  The tears were falling faster and Wilson was nothing more than a blurry blob crouched in front of him.

"Take it out on you?" Wilson said quietly, voice razor sharp.  "Judging by the looks of you, I'd say Ra's al Ghul cares next to nothing for you.  What good would hurting you do?"  Terror rose in Dick's stomach, climbing up his chest, choking him as Wilson continued, "But his precious heir?  Ra's cares about him.  And I will have my revenge."

No, Dick wanted to shout, to scream, to shriek desperately as he groveled at Wilson's feet, but the alpha scruffed him again, and the sudden relaxation was too much of a shock to his over-stressed system.  The world went dizzy and grayness swirled around him, and Dick didn't even remember hitting the ground.

[raina-at]

Box

Sometimes Sherlock's mind runs at high speed, sometimes he's brilliant and every input sparks a million deductions and interesting thoughts and new ideas. Sometimes he marvels at the complexity of his brain, the intricate rooms and spires of his mind palace.

Sometimes, and there's no other, less harsh word for it, sometimes Sherlock hates being in his own head.

Sometimes, when everything is loud and wild and too much, he feels like he would do anything, anything, to have a moment of peace. A moment of quiet, the insatiable engine of his brain stopping just for a second for a second so he can rest.

Sometimes, days are slow and grey and boring, and his mind is a slog of conflicting thoughts and memories, and the very idea of any kind of movement is already too much. Sometimes even the light hurts. Sometimes even John's voice is too loud. Sometimes even his dressing gown chafes his skin raw and even the air feels like pins and needles on his feet.

Sometimes Sherlock goes quiet, on days like this. Sometimes he gets high.

But he really hates the days when he gets nasty. He can't even really stop himself, he just spews out all the hateful thoughts about himself and other people into the face of the first person to touch him the wrong way.

Sometimes, that person is John.

Like about half an hour ago. Sherlock had been lying on the sofa since yesterday evening, unable, unwilling to even think of moving, and John had insisted he at least drink a bit of water.

Reasonable. Kind, even.

Sherlock opened his mouth and he eviscerated John. With deductions about his family, his bad habits, every tiny inadequacy in the bedroom he ever experienced (though their sex life, let's be honest, is fantastic, but at that moment he didn't care, it would hurt John and he would leave Sherlock alone in his misery). 

John, predictably, left.

Sherlock seriously asks himself whether one of these days, John won't come back. And he's frankly baffled when John comes back, not twenty minutes after Sherlock said some things to him that Sherlock himself will probably not be able to un-hear.

But John doesn't even seem overly angry. Resolute, yes. Wearing his 'Fuck with me at your peril' face, yes. But not angry.

"Okay," he says. "This ends now. Sit up."

Curious in spite of himself, and fully aware of how thin the ice he's walking on currently is, Sherlock does as he's told.

John puts a nondescript cardboard box on the table. "We're playing."

Sherlock doesn't roll his eyes, but it's an effort. This is an old game, one John invented for him back when he first moved in to entertain Sherlock between cases. John calls it 'What's in the box'.

Sherlock calls it a waste of his precious time and brain capacity. It's never taken him more than ten minutes to guess what's in the box. The only reason it’s even a bit of a challenge is that John is delightfully unpredictable. But still, Sherlock always guesses correctly.

But one look at John's flinty eyes, the telltale tension in his jaw muscles and the way he stands nearly at parade rest tells Sherlock that arguing right now would perhaps not be altogether in his best interest.

Sherlock holds John's determined gaze for a moment, then, after John raises a challenging eyebrow, directs his attention at the box.

It's a square box of brown cardboard, about 20 centimetres in diameter, large enough to hold a novelty mug, for example. Sherlock picks it up and starts examining it. It's very light, he notices that immediately. It's also cool to the touch, and slightly damp. It's snowing outside, so the deduction that John just went out and purchased this box is immediately obvious. But did he purchase the contents as well?

It has no discernible smell aside from the slight whiff of John's hand cream and London snow. The edges are smooth, whatever John put in there fit easily. The box makes no noise when he shakes it, so either the contents are well-secured or fit the box so perfectly that there is no room for movement.

“Five questions,” John says quietly.

Sherlock acknowledges the rules of the game with a tilt of his head and asks his first question. “Did you purchase the contents?”

John nods. “Four.”

“Did you do it within the last hour?”

John shakes his head.

Sherlock looks up from the box and meets John’s eyes. John is watching him with a mixture of anticipation and wariness, and Sherlock is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt, with disgust at the horrid, uncontrollable part of him that’s capable of spewing such ugliness to a person he loves so much. “Why are you still here?” he whispers, holding John’s eyes.

“Where would I go?” John asks quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Anywhere has to be better than here on days like today,” Sherlock answers, his voice raw with emotion and the full force of his self-loathing. 

“Open the box,” John says gently, nodding at the small cardboard square between them.

“But the game-”

“Sod the game,” John says with his usual impatience. “Open. The bloody. Box.”

Sherlock decides arguing is pointless and opens the lid.

Inside is a lot of packing paper.

And inside the packing paper sits a small, square, velvet-covered ring box.

Sherlock looks up, surprised, aghast, shocked. “Why?” he asks, unable to say any more.

John shrugs, a quiet smile on his face. “Because. Because most days you’re wonderful. Because most days we have fun and adventure and closeness and great sex, because most days you’re brilliant and clever and funny and charming. Because on the days you’re not, you’re still you and I still love you. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. And I want you to be able to think about that when you look at that ring, and remember that even on the days when you hate your brain, I love it, and always will.”

Sherlock is speechless, helpless, planless in the face of this onslaught of affection. He looks down at the box and opens it with gentle, shaking fingers. 

The rings are lovely, of course. Plain white gold, simple, perfect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says, addressing his words to the box because if he looks at John now he might very well die of overload. 

“It’s customary to say either yes or no,” John says, and underneath the teasing he can sense John’s actual uncertainty.

Sherlock takes John’s hand, encircling John’s ring finger with his fingertips, imagining the ring there. Finally, he looks up, and he smiles. “Yes.”

-------

Tags under the cut as usual, please tell me whether you want to be tagged or untagged. Sorry if I forgot to tag you, it's been a looog day. Also sorry if there's any mistakes in there. Long day.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @jrow @jolieblack @helloliriels @discordantwords @lisbeth-kk @victorianpining @catlock-holmes

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Criston's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Verision

Cregan Stark x Reader | 900< | cw: fem!reader, dornish!reader, angry mob, angst, violence, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved. this was requested by an anon so anon i hope you see this and enjoy it <3

You remember distinctly how his hair bounced as he ran to your window. You remember distinctly the huffs that left his lips as he scaled up to your window. You remember distinctly the smile that blossomed on your lips as he handed you the fresh flower he picked.

Yet, it seemed nothing remained of what you remembered of him, to a point where you questioned if you remembered correctly at all.

Criston Cole strut about the Keep with his short hair and white cloak as though he was born here. There was an air of urgency about him and a sullenness to his expression. He spoke with a man, dawned in similar attire as they march closer to you. You push your shoulders back and ready yourself to meet him.

You wait for him to stop, for him to see you and look as though he'd seen a ghost. He does not even look your way or notice you as he passes. You are taken aback, but brush it off; after all, you were kids when you last saw each other.

"Criston."

The man speaking to whom you called is the one that looks back. A beat later, so does he. His brows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched.

You offer him a smile, "duty becomes you... I think."

He tilts his head at your words and watches you link your fingers together. It takes him too many seconds too long to recognize you. Your smile chips by the time he says your name. He dismisses the man beside him and moves closer to you. Now that you are face to face, you find it a wonder to have recognized him at all.

How high he has soared from being some lowly boy who offered you flowers. For a moment, you swear his brown eyes soften the way it used once.

"I heard they have made you the Hand," you eye the necklace on him, "I think my father would rise from the dead if I told his grave." You chuckle softly, "though, he is more a lord of pride than anything else."

A faint line forms between his brows, "have you come to besmirch me?"

You pull your head back, "what?"

"Do you find Dorne so dull that you leave the peace there to behold the skirmish here in King's Landing?"

Your jaw slacks. You shake your head in disagreement. You reach for his cheek, "I do no such thing, sweetheart."

Criston reels then tenses at your touch. Still, you manage to place your palm upon his face. He looks as though he is fighting to keep the hardness on his face.

"I've come to see you. To wish you well."

His mask slips. You feel him slightly lean into your touch. He sighs, "it is not safe for you here. The city does not take kindly its Crown as of late. They've grown restless," he takes your hand and squeezes it, "you m-"

"Ser Criston."

The speed and harshness in which your hand is released nearly makes you lose your footing.

Criston turns around with the haste of a guilty criminal. You both turn to the red haired woman. He addresses her, "queen mother."

She approaches, hand gripping her emerald skirt. She stops a few feet before the two of you. She turns to you and you find yourself curtsying, "Queen Alicent."

She smiles politely and turns to Cole, "there is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"I am your servant," he steps forward, bowing in regard.

"We may speak after your-"

"Our conversation is ended," Criston does not spare you a glance.

Alicent does not betray the blank expression on her face. She turns to you, eyes darting to your necklace, "you have come from Dorne, have you not?"

You nod, "indeed, your grace."

She looks back at him. Her lips twitch, "much effort has been taken by your friend-"

"She is not my friend," Criston cuts, deeply and surely. You are rendered frozen in your spot as he glances from over his shoulder, "I have instructed her to take her leave."

You feel as though the heat of your was being pulled out from your face. You lower your gaze and curtsy one last time before leaving without another word.

Criston watches as you retreat. He feels a twinge in his chest but he wills it away with a sigh. It is much harder to do so when Alicent begins to pick a fight over his unfeelingness.

You manage to retreat to your carriage and instruct your coachman to bring you back home. As you ride through the city, your embarrassment and sorrow almost make the cries of the peasants fall deaf to your ears. However, by then time you arrive at the city gates, it is impossible to ignore, especially not when your carriage begins get rocked.

You gasp and press your hands to walls to keep yourself upright. It takes only a few moments for you to realize exit was not being allowed to the town folk and your exemption was reason to for their aggression. You begin to panic when you hear a loud cry from your coachmen, then from horses.

You hear guards threatening people, then suddenly, your door was ripped open.

They were upon you. In a second, tens of people had their hands on your body, ripping your dress, your hair, your being into shreds. You could not get away. City guards manage to grab hold of you but it did you more harm than good; they now battled for your helpless form.

The pain was searing; all you could do was scream.

Though the guards were eventually able to retrieve you, though you managed to be brought back to the Keep, though maesters saw to your shredded body, Criston was unable to wish you what you meant to wish him. You had let your final breath before he could visit.

He and Alicent light a candle.

[rendy-a]

Hi! Apologies if this request is too vague or specific but can I request a fic of Jack Howl x reader who’s a night owl kind of person and is much shorter than him, thank you!

Thanks for requesting. I don't get a lot of asks for Jack, so its a nice exercise to write something for him. I hope I captured him correctly.

‘Crazy,’ Jack thinks for the hundredth time after befriending the strange Prefect of Ramshackle dorm.  You can see this thought pass through his face, but it only makes you laugh more.  “Come on, you know you’ll enjoy it.”  Jack sighs, “Why can’t you ever pick anything to do that occurs during a normal person’s day?”  You lift your hand high to pat your tall friend on the shoulder and laugh, “I’ll convert you eventually,” and chuckle at the resulting scoff.

It is said that opposites attract, and nothing could be more fitting to describe the closeness that has developed between you and Jack.  You were short and he was tall.  You were always laughing, and he was so serious.  The point that seemed to cause you the most contention was that you lived for the late evening hours when the darkness crept in and the sky awoke with stars.  You loved the way the insects would sing in the night and the dampness of the coming dew that settled over everything.  Jack, on the other hand, went to bed early and woke up at some god-awful hour in the morning.  He would tell you any time you brought it up why he liked it, but you just didn’t see it.  Noisy birds chirping?  Bright and garish sunrises?  Having the whole campus to yourself for a jog?  What was the charm in that?  So, you’d taken it upon yourself to show him the beauty of the night whenever you could.  You’d change his mind eventually or at least have fun trying!

“Tell me again why we can’t just watch these movies on the weekend?” Jack asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.  You grab his arm and lay your head pleadingly on his bicep, “Awe, come on!  Late night movie marathons are the best!”  When you see him turn away as though he can’t meet your eye, you know you almost have him.  Time for your most convincing argument.  “Please, please, please, please, please!!!”  Jack sighs with a huff and gives in to your demand but makes you promise to at least have something healthy for a snack.  “Ok, fine,” you offer conceding, “I’ll even prove my commitment to healthy snacks by asking Vil for some suggestions.”  Jack thanks you for going so far out of your way for him and gives you an approving pat on the head.  Finally, your late-night horror fest with your best pal Jack is a go!  And you got a head pat; way to go you!

You were halfway through Horror from the Deep when you could feel the sleepiness creep up.  Jack had fallen asleep twice, for which you teased him relentlessly, and so you were determined to make it through the entire retro horror movie marathon without missing a second.  “Should we call it a day?” asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.  You force your fluttering eyes to full-open and ask, “What?  Why?” as though you didn’t know the answer.  He huffs at your ridiculous defiance and remarks, “You’re no better than my kid brother at admitting when you are tired.”  You frown, “So what, I’m like your sibling now?”  Jack seems disturbed by this suggestion and lowers his ears as he stammers an apology.  Well, this was awkward now.  You turn your attention back to the movie, forcing yourself to focus on that instead of the warm (and firm) arm you are leaning against.  Just like friends.  Only friends. 

By the time the monster emerges onto the beach, you are sleeping deeply while pulling Jack’s arm into a hug.  He gives a half-hearted tug before deciding to abandon the effort and leans to rest his head on top of your own.  Sleeping like this won’t be so bad.  But only because he has too, not because he’s been dreaming about this.  No, certainly you didn’t have a friendship like that.  Of course not.

In the deep hours of the night, when you’re not quite sure if you should refer to it as night or morning, you awaken.  Your sleepy noises bring Jack to alertness before you can really take in how close you were.  You sigh and look at your movie partner bashfully, “Guess we will have to rewatch that one later, huh?”  Jack gives you a smug smile in response and suddenly you are laughing together.  There is a strange magic to the twilight and perhaps that is why Jack suddenly asks, “Walk me home?”  You smile at him, glad to have an excuse to drag this time out, “Sure.” 

You walk side by side in the misty fog that rolls off the grass during the pre-morning hours.  The effect was mysterious, like the setting of those late-night horror movies you’d watched.  You decided that you liked it.  You lean toward your companion to share your insight, “See Jack, this is exactly the sort of reason I love the night so much.”  Jack gives you a bit of side-eye and dryly remarks, “That fog is there because its nearly morning.”  You are startled by his comment, “Wait, what?”  Looking around, you realize he is right, it has grown so late that it was nearly morning.  The stars still gleamed in the sky, but you couldn’t deny the hint of brightness that was creeping from the horizon and the music of insects was slowly intermixing with the earliest of bird calls. 

You look around, taking in the atmosphere of the hour, “So this is the death of night, huh?”  Jack scoffs, “So dramatic.”  You smile, secretly pleased at getting such a response from him.  “Is it always this…fresh smelling?” you ask him pensively.  He takes a deep breath and lets out the most satisfying exhale, “Yeah, it is.”  You continue watching him with a smile, “I kind of like it.”  Jack’s ears twitch as though thinking something over, “Yeah but sometimes it’s too bright.  This is nice too, easy on the eyes.”  You give his arm a tap with your elbow, as though to let him know you’d noticed what he did there.  Jack was always fast to reconcile with you when you argued, especially if you admitted you understood his side.

You execute a little hop step and remark, “We should get moving, I don’t want to get any of your morning cooties on me.”  Then you set off in a mild run, laughing as you go.  Jack quickly catches up to you with a smirk, as though to remind you here is a far better runner than you.  You don’t mind, in fact, this is nice.  You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him along after you.  You feel him squeeze your hand but aren’t brave enough to look back and see what expression might be on his face.  You didn’t really need to though.  You went together like morning and night.  They were both great apart but when you combined them, like fog rolling off the grass, it was magic.

[drabblesandimagines]

Sweet & Salty

I'm feeling a bit sad today so wanted some comfort... Sebastian x (afab) reader, Stardew Valley, Fluffity fluff Warnings: Mention of recreational drug use

-

It’s been a day. You’d sat down heavily on your porch steps, trying to keep the tears at bay. You should probably go mope in your bed, instead of staring at the land that is causing you so much distress. Despite your carefully placed scarecrow, you must’ve miscalculated the distance because the crows have still had a go at your most recent plantings and that’s hard-earned money down the drain - again. You’ve been here two months now and, surely, by now you should know better. The farm has been somewhat transformed since you arrived - a mass of weeds, stone and dead branches - but it’s nowhere near how you remember it in your grandpa’s heyday. He would’ve never made such a rudimentary error in his scarecrow placement.

Some of the fences around your crop patches have started to erode too – it won’t be long until they need replaced, but you’re trying to save up your wood supplies to put in a coop from Robyn. You desperately want to add chickens to the farm as eggs would be steady income – or at least you reckon – but you also don’t want them pecking at your crops alongside the crows, so having a fence seems important too. Your endless to-do list swirls around your head again. Why’s everything so hard?

It's not just your failings on the farm on your mind, but also your lack at making any real friends around here. Shane glared at you this morning as he headed off to work. That’s not unusual, despite your best efforts of a smile and a friendly greeting. Then Haley looked you up and down, judging your dirty dungarees. You’d only popped into town to get some seeds from Pierre’s. It didn’t make sense to get changed… Elliott is sweet but locked away in his cabin most of the time, Emily in her own little world… Sebastian, Sam and Abigail have invited you to play pool with them, but they’re such a tight-knit group and you always feel like you’re missing out on the joke, especially when you were partnered up with Sebastian. He’d been teaching you how to hold the cue correctly, leaning over you, his breath tickling your ear. Sam and Abigail kept nudging each other and whispering, but you couldn’t catch what about and it was clear Sebastian was becoming irritated. You’d begun to think they were making fun of your abysmal pool skills.

Ugh. Your emotions are a rollercoaster and the twisting pain in your stomach reminds you why – stupid period. It emerged with a vengeance this morning. It had stopped in your last months of JoJo Corp. There was no chance you were pregnant, your last intimate relationship fizzling out a year previously, though you’d taken tests just to be sure. The doctor in Zuzu City said you were stressed, burnt out… that it would return once you were feeling better in yourself. So why had it returned now, of all times? You feel more stressed and burnt out than ever before, regretting ever moving here. Why did you think you could become a farmer…?!

The barrier finally breaks and you let out a sob, hugging your knees.

To your shame, there’s a scuffing footstep and your heart stops as you look up, worried who’s seen your breakdown.

“Sebastian?” You sniff. You’re tempted to rub the tears from your cheeks but maybe he hasn’t noticed in the evening light. The black-haired man is standing there looking sheepish, a brown paper bag from Pierre’s clutched in his hands.

“Er, hey…” He’s not meeting your eyes. Poor boy probably wants to run. “Sorry, I… I was just leaving Sam’s and I didn’t want to go through town and see everyone, so I thought I’d take the scenic route back home through your farm…”

“Oh.” You mumble, waving him on. “That’s okay. Go ahead.”

He takes a step as if to go on his way, but then hesitates. “Are… Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you plaster a smile on, which you’re sure makes you look ridiculous as the stupid tears are still flowing. “I’m just being silly. Don’t let me keep you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before a sympathetic smile graces his lips. “You’re a terrible liar, you know?”

“I’m not ly- Ow!” You flinch as your stomach cramps terribly and you squeeze your arms around it, hoping in some way it might alleviate the pain.

Sebastian is suddenly at your side – the paper bag from Pierre’s dropped to the ground. He’s kneeling down on the first porch step with a frown on his face. “Whoa, are you hurt? I can get Harvey…” His hand hovers over your arm,

“No, honestly, I’m fine…” You try and wave him off again with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around your stomach.

He stares at you, a raised eyebrow. He seems to be putting the clues together – the wincing, clutching your stomach, the tears… He nods, making up his mind and gets to his feet, picking up the discarded bag from Pierre’s as he does so.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He offers you his free hand.

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. You get on home…”

“Farmer, I know I’m probably not the person you want to see right now, but let me help you out, okay? I can’t go home and just leave crying on your porch.” He waves his offered hand again. You look at Sebastian, hesitantly. He looks genuine, at least, but there’s something a little off about him tonight… Heck, you’ve already made a fool of yourself enough, so what’s one more thing?

This time you accept his hand and he easily pulls you to your feet and leads you up to your door. He opens it – you’d easily adapted to the habit of leaving the front door unlocked since moving to Pelican Valley.

You go to open your mouth, to tell Sebastian thank you, but he can go now. You’re inside, you’ll go to bed and pretend this never happened.

“Sit down.” He orders, pointing at your bed. “You like hot chocolate, right?” You wonder how he knows that, how he knows you have a stash. Had you mentioned it at the saloon before? “I’ll make you a cup.”

“But you don’t know where…”

“I’ll find it. Sit!” He pushes you gently towards the bed and you do sit, keeping a wary eye. To be honest, it is quite easy to find your cups and kettle. Robyn had advertised an extension to you but you don’t even want to think about the price and the materials needed. For now – perhaps even for the rest of your life - you’ve got a cupboard filled with crockery and silverware. The fire’s roaring away, you’re thankful you’d lit it earlier to try and make it cosy ahead of going to bed later on. The cabin always had a slight chill at night. Sebastian retrieves a mug and spoon, scooping the hot chocolate powder into the mug, fills the kettle with water from the jug you keep besides the cupboard, before taking it over to the fire to heat.

“Do you have a hot water bottle?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Hot water bottle.” He enunciates.

“Y-yeah, I think it’s under my bed. Let me…” Before you can bend down, he drops to his knees and Sebastian is now crawling under the bedframe to retrieve it. You pull your legs up off the floor to the bed, not sure what to say.

He reverses back out, holding the fluffy hot water bottle in the air triumphantly, and gets back to his feet. “Finally, where do you keep the snacks?”

“I don’t have any. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting to entertain.”

“Not for me,” a chuckle – it sounds a little odd coming from him - “..for you!”

“For me?” He’s acting so weird.

But he’s not listening, already rummaging around the brown bag from Pierre’s. He walks over to the sofa and empties the contents besides you – there’s a couple of packs of chips, cookies and candy. “Ta-da!”

You look at the assembled junk food and back up at the black-haired man, noticing his blood-shot eyes.

“You’re high.”

Sebastian laughs again, rubbing the back of his head. “Guilty. Is that a problem?”

“No, it just… explains a lot.” You wince again as the kettle on the fire whistles. Sebastian grabs the mitt you keep nearby for that exact purpose and places it on his hand, removing the kettle from the fire and placing it down on the hearth. Methodically, he pours some hot water in the hot water bottle, tightening the cap, before pouring some in in the cup he retrieved, stirring the hot chocolate powder until it dissolves. Once he seems happy with his work, he brings the two over to you on the bed.

“Okay, since you worked out my thing, it’s my turn. Time of the month, right?” He flops down next to you on the bed, ripping open a bag of chips. “My sympathies.” It feels surreal as he holds the bag towards you and you take a handful – maybe junk food would make you feel better, and the warmth of the hot water bottle is soothing too now against your sore tummy.

The only sound for a few moments is the rustle of the chip package and the crunching of said chips. You take a sip of hot chocolate, probably a weird combination at that moment in time, but it’s working.

“Sebastian…”

“Mm?” You’ve caught him with his mouth full.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Erm…” He swallows. “Well, I guess cos I have a sister and a mom… and a friend named Abigail.” He replies in a teasing tone. “Maru and Abi usually just get super pissy though. Mom’s the crier.” Sebastian leans forward and grabs the blanket off the end of your bed, throwing it over the both of your laps in a smooth motion. Who knew he could turn into a right chatterbox? “Wanna watch some TV?” He picks up the remote control and turns it on without waiting for a response, flipping through the channels. “Do you have a preference? Nothing deters Abi from horror, Mom and Maru go chick-flick mad…”

You burst into tears again.

“Whoa, okay, no TV! That’s fair too.”

“N-no, it’s n-not that.” You let out a shuddering breath. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because we’re friends…?”

“No, everyone hates me here.” You know you’re being irrational now, but the floodgates have well and truly opened.

“Come on, you know that’s not exactly true.” His face looks serious now.

“It is. I don’t know what I was thinking – I worked in customer support, why did I think I could farm the land? I’m going to be broke by the end of winter if I lose another batch of crops and this town is so tight-knit that they’re never going to like me being here.”

“I like you being here.”

“No, you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.” You go to take another handful of chips, but he snatches the bag out of your reach indignantly.

“I am not.”

“You are.” You clip back.

Sebastian lets out a huff in frustration and he acts before he can even consider the consequences. He puts a hand on the side of your face, turning it slightly and presses a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment or two, immediately causing your tears to cease.

“Would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“I…” You don’t have any words.

He swipes his tongue over his lips. “Mm, salty. That’s not how I expected our first kiss to go, I’ll be honest.”

“Our first kiss?” Your face is on fire. It has to be on fire, why else would it feel so hot?

“Yeah, well, I told you I like you, didn’t I?” He grins, before it drops. “Though I’ve just realized that you probably don’t like me like that, I’m high, and now I’ve made this a hundred times wor-…”

You cut him off, caressing his lips with your own for a moment.

“No. I like you too.”

“Well, that’s that settled, then, isn’t it?” He leans back, a smug look on his face before he grabs the packet of candy. “Shall we see what a sweet kiss tastes like next?”

-

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi I'm also running an event for x reader fics to celebrate 200 followers, so please check it out and send in your requests.

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! Could I please request TTN Hobie and reader go back to Aunt Janet’s shop, when they are together again after reader comes back from LA, to buy some fabric for something that they are sewing? I would love to see her reaction of seeing them both together!

Have a lovely day/night!

🕊️anon

Yippee a TTN request!! Ly thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of babies, TTN! Hobie and Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle series Masterlist

TTN oneshot Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The bell jingles as Hobie opens the door for you, strolling inside, practically skipping from all the happiness of being with him again, you wait for him to enter. He loops his arm around your waist almost immediately. The unabashed PDA would make anyone look away, but who cares? You're complete once again.

“What do you need again?” He asks, eyes roaming around, chin resting comfortably on your shoulder.

“If you stopped and actually listened to my chattering then you won't have to ask.” You say teasingly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“If you stopped snogging me while talking then I won't be so distracted, hmm?” Hobie rubs his chin on your shoulder in an effort to tickle you.

“It's not my fault you keep coming on to me.” Giggling, he scrunches up your face with his whole palm over your entire face, wiggling it playfully.

“If you two don't stop being all sweet there'll be ants all over my shop.” A familiar voice pipes up from behind the counter, making you pause and take off Hobie's hand from your face. “‘ello you two. Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“Auntie Janet!” You squeal, feet bouncing to get to her. Hugging her over the counter, you hold her at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear.

You've noticed the new glasses on her, she has aged a bit since you last saw each other but there's still that twinkle in her eyes whenever she smiles.

“Let me get a good look at you!” You awkwardly twirl around at her behest. She smiles widely.

“So?” You ask timidly.

“Good,” Janet nods approvingly. “You've taken care of yourself well? Ate? Went on walks?”

“I did, don't worry.”

“He taking good care of you then?” She gestures towards Hobie who peruses the shelves.

“He is. Too good in fact, he barely lets me out of his sight.” You joke. “I'm guessing he missed me a lot.”

Janet leans closer to you, whispering. “Don't tell him I told you this but he's a regular customer here.”

“He is?” You ask, feigning ignorance. You know of his vigilante activities, and unfortunately those activities usually end up with his suit cut to pieces or mangled up. It's the main reason why you're visiting, and to also visit Janet of course.

Your heart pounds loudly at the thought of Janet figuring out his secret identity.

“That he is, I think he's making his own clothes. That's how much he misses you. You know, do the activities you like so he feels like you're there with him”

You breathe a sigh of relief, not knowing what you would've said to her if she guessed correctly on why he needs so much fabric. With a giddy smile, you like her conclusion better.

“I'll– put that information to good use.” You stutter,

She nods, “use it wisely.” Winking, she straightens out when Hobie plops a roll of scaly green fabric on the counter.

“Oh is this for Terry?” You ask, hand automatically reaching for his jean back pocket.

Janet looks at you confused.

“Yeah, for patching him up.”

“Wait, do you have a kid? How long have you been home, Y/N?” She looks at you like you've betrayed her.

Before you could explain, Hobie takes the opportunity to tease the old woman.

He pats your stomach, “yeah, she had him a month ago and he's growing very fast, we need new clothes for him.”

You stifle a laugh, you'd tell her eventually but you want to see how Hobie's bit goes.

“A baby boy?!” She points at Hobie menacingly. “She gave birth a month ago and you're already letting her walk around?” Janet comes around the counter, cane at the ready. “Not to mention the fact you already knocked her up the minute she came back home!” She points at Hobie with her cane. “What kind of–”

Hobie shields himself with his arms, laughing loudly while Janet chastises him. Their voices echo out in the shop.

You watch Hobie defend himself from an old woman, smiling, your laughs match Hobie's. Maybe you'll tell Janet the truth once she calms down or else you might get the cane too.

[s0ft-d3cay]

Small Thoughts and Movements

Shigaraki x Male Reader | Back in time to young blue hair Shigaraki(the new chapter hit me too hard man...), yes another healer reader because I think that's cool...and a happy birthday to the man...(THAT FUCKING CHAPT-) WARNINGS: Mentions of stains arrest, mentions of society being taken down, an underlying tone of desperation from Kurogiri, and angsty Shigaraki, no use of Y/N, reader is called healer by both Shigaraki and Kurogiri, not beta read

WC: 1,409

"How the hell did you know all of this would happen, healer?" Stepping into the bar, Shigaraki reading a newspaper headlining Stain’s arrest while Kurogiri stood behind the bar, silently keeping his area neat. Amusement and questioning swam around the blue haired villain It had barely been a day since your official meet up with him, half expecting him to at least dislike you. Instead, here he is talking to you as if you’ve conversation hundreds of times before. You did love when things worked out for the better.

"And a good afternoon to you too," huffing out a light laugh, walking over to sit in a chair away from him. Impatience took over him, rolling off in waves from your lack of response. Interest moving its way around the both of us from Kurogiri. "Well?" He tilts his head towards the bar, waiting an expression of what you assumed to be boredom if his face wasn’t covered.

"It’s mainly for public complacency. Everyone and anyone are going to be talking about Stain till there’s another ‘disaster,’ like most topics. It’s just a part of the system, once his fame simmers down then it’ll be on to the next one.” He's silent as you finished answering, fidgeting with the newspaper in hand. A feeling of disappointment and regret filled him like vines, crewing all around his being. Even as a leader of a villain group he still acted like a kid. Maybe he still is, you thought.

"What, expecting to headline with your little Nomu tantrum in the same day as Stain THE hero killer’s arrested?" You teased lightly, tone playful. Embarrassment and irritation clouds around him as he huffs, throwing the newspaper down. Conversations between the three of us slowly ramped up after an awakened beat, before Kurogiri speaks up about a ‘Master’.

"Typically, we wait on whatever Master wants us to do, mainly it has been Shigaraki himself recently.” The man behind the bar counter explained. The rest of the nights goes on until the topic of the league comes up again. "What does the league have to accomplish, aside from pressing the re-start button on the hero society, of course?” You asked.

"Collecting as many people as we can with the same mindset is the biggest concern the league has at the moment." Kurogiri answered point blank. "So, beef up all your foot soldiers and Nomu before moving to the final plan of killing All Might?" An air of confidence at your words, filling the leader with pride. The man next to you practically beamed at your words behind the mask. Taking the straightforward approach felt off, missing something important to the cause. Confusion and thoughts running rampant as Shigaraki cut into them. "Not what you were expecting, I assume?"

"Not exactly just, seems to lack a sort of…build up to your endgame. I mean, not even a single small mission planned to lead up to the big boss fight?" Shigaraki pauses to ponder your words, Kurogiri steps in. "You are indeed correct healer, though our plan seems simple, it will take not only time, but efforts to execute it correctly."

"We shouldn’t have too, If it wasn’t for that fucking brat and All Might to always ruin it!” The blue haired man cut in, frustrated with a voice of venom. His hands crumpling and disintegrating the newspaper. "The first year Midoriya, you think he might be caught up in all of this?" Not much of a question, more so a statement you brought up. "…could this potentially be a two sides of the same coin kind of situation?" Intrigued curiosity took over Shigaraki, there was a connection between them, that much was clear.

Kurogiri and you figured that out pretty quick, though the blue haired man couldn’t quite put the pieces together. "Yes, that is what we think. This young child is somehow connected to All Might." Connect by power, you thought not voicing it. To you it was blatantly obvious, the both of them share the same core energy. Only genetically, soulmates, and giving power has that effect. Your quirk had a sort of x-ray vision to people's quirks.

A build up of despair and frustration vines itself around the villain next to you. Wrapping up his legs, arms, and torso, completely suffocating the space around him. He shakes slightly, you could barely feel it, but one tiny sliver of fear was at the center of it all. You analyzed it to be a…familiar fear, his reaction of curling in on his self, and scratching at his neck violently. He then breaths out heavily before standing up and stomps out the door. His emotions are clashing and intertwining as he leaves the building. "My apologies, Shigaraki has a tendency of storming off when things become…overwhelming for him."

"I understand, it can take a lot for planning the end of a society. Let alone having not one, but two people standing in the way of it,” The other villain nods picking up the leftover glass, carefully cleaning it with a white rag. "Nonetheless, having someone such as yourself on our side, gives us a chance at the very least I believe." You nod back agreeing with his words.

He was right, you took a breath, holding up your glass towards Kurogiri. "Whatever it takes to change this world into a better one." Raising the glass before finishing what was left, sliding it over the bar. Standing up, making your way out until you feel apprehension reaching out at every step to the door. "Before you leave, there is something you must know." Pausing a few steps from the door turning away, giving him your full attention.

His emotions had been muted since you first met him. Until now, there is this pressure of thin air reaching out, pulling you in and away like the sea’s tide. It was like someone was wanting to escape but needing to stay for another’s sake, like someone trapped.

"If anything is to happen to me, I need to know you to look after the league, especially Shigaraki. I may not know you personally, but from what I can tell from the interactions between you two, I know I can." Unlike his usual words that match a poorly written script, these where the shouts of silent whispers ricocheting out. This was enough for you to know that this is a very personal ask from Kurogiri. He truly cared for the upcoming leader and as far as you can tell he trusted you all the same.

"If push comes to shove, I will if anything happens to you." His stance in swirling changed slightly at your answer. So small, you figure most would’ve brushed it off as wind or nothing at all. You, who are so heightened to everyone's emotions and feels knew better than most. He was thankful that you heard him. "Good, Shigaraki needs someone like you," you doubt his words. Sure you’ve proven yourself able to fight and talk the talk, but this was not at all what you expected.

"You’re very kind Kurogiri, I’ll take your word for it." Stepping out the bar, you walk down the hallway thinking everything over. The leagues endgame, whatever Kurogiri was and Shigaraki’s reaction. All of it interested you, even with the inevitable despair ending of society clasping you wanted the most. As tempting as having an entire year off without needing supplements, the potential of watching the world fall to its knees by its faults; sweet revenge was overdue.

Deciding on your answer, you make your way throughout the small hidden building. The night life thrives as you move your way on the sidewalk, passing drunks and groups of late workers on the way home.

Turning down an alleyway, you’re met with Shigaraki leaning against the left wall. Feelings of contemplation and exhaustion, his face covered. You take slow steps closer watching him silently. He calmed down a lot after the last you sensed him leaving the building only half an hour ago.

It was obvious he wanted to speak, staring hard at the ground with an intense irritation. Passing by him in large steps continuing through the alley, giving him the time to speak if he wished to before you disappeared into the night. "We’ll discuss your place among the League, Or rather if you are willing to fight in our party," he spoke.

"I’ll be here tomorrow then.”

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

Sign of Good Luck - Blooming Jasmine

Another #delulu to welcome Zayne's newest myth!

Hope you've been enjoying all my delulus so far ^^

You met Zayne in the destined mountain.....

Sign of Good Luck - Blooming Jasmine

In a dense forest on the peak of Mount Shen, located east of the village of Shen Kong, there stands a temple said to be the dwelling of a deity known for foreseeing destinies and maintaining the balance of all things, much like the tales of reincarnation and transmigration you had read about in ancient stories. If you recall correctly from your readings, this deity was named Si Ming Xian Jun—the Lord of Fate, a god renowned for his icy gaze and unwavering demeanor, regardless of the chaos around him.

A deity free from desires, for in his eyes, nothing mattered more than sustaining the balance and mysteries of the world.

The mere thought of encountering this deity to plead for something so unusual made you hesitate. You knew your intentions were impure and feared that if the deity perceived your calculative nature, he would despise you and refuse your plea. Yet, for the sake of your parents, and yourself, you had to seize this chance, knowing your time was running out.

You were an orphan taken in by a couple who gave you a life when they found you wandering in the forest as a child. They never spoke of your past, as you could not remember where you came from. You only knew this was your home, a place you had longed for. Happiness, however, was fleeting; as you grew, your health deteriorated. Despite their efforts, your condition worsened. Then, one day, a mysterious figure offered a cure on the condition that you travel east to find the legendary Si Ming Xian Jun and become his disciple. In desperation, you accepted.

Defying your parents' objections, you embarked on your journey. Miraculously, the remedy given by the mysterious figure took immediate effect, revitalizing you. This newfound strength spurred you on your path to the east.

Crossing mountains and forests, you finally reached the village at the mountain's foot. The villagers were astonished at your quest but kindly directed you to a small cottage, once home to a benefactor who had helped the village. The cottage, though cold, felt warm and welcoming.

Having prepared yourself, you ventured into the forest. Following the book's guidance, you knew the deity never abandoned those lost in his domain, especially those in need. Lost in thought, you found yourself deeper in the woods, enveloped by a fog that sapped your strength, leading you to collapse, surrendering to fate.

As if destined, a dark figure approached, exuding the soothing breath of spring mixed with winter's chill, cradling you into slumber.

*******************************************************************

The chime of wind bells woke you. A strange ceiling, a soft bed, and an unfamiliar scent.

“You’re awake?”

A deep, gentle voice accompanied the breeze, brushing your hair and tickling your ears. Recognizing your situation and the presence before you, you attempted to kneel in supplication, only to be restrained by a firm hand.

“I do not accept obeisance without knowing your name and identity. Speak, who are you?”

The commanding warmth in the voice left you fumbling for words.

“A… humble maiden… here to seek Si Ming Xian Jun.”

Receiving no response, you gathered courage, your voice growing bolder.

“Please, Xian Jun, help this humble maiden… I have but one request.”

Drawing a deep breath, you summoned your courage.

“Allow me to become your disciple!”

You bowed deeply, placing your hands on your knees in a gesture of earnest supplication. Silence ensued, the only sound being the rustling of leaves.

Time seemed to stretch as you maintained your pose, hoping your sincerity would touch the deity. Just as you thought you might give up, a resigned sigh broke the silence.

“Very well, but first, tell me your name.”

Overjoyed, you looked up, forgetting decorum in your excitement, and recited what the mysterious figure had instructed.

“I am an orphan, taken in by my adoptive parents in a distant village at the foot of the western mountains. Because of our poverty, I left to seek my fortune, hoping not to burden them. But on my journey, I realized I had no skills and relied on a fortune teller’s words that I possess immortal essence, capable of becoming an immortal. Hence, I sought you out, praised for your wisdom and virtue, hoping for a chance…”

Though some words were rehearsed, your plea was genuine, and you struggled to hold back tears.

As you rambled, the deity extended a hand.

“Give me your hand.”

Without hesitation, you complied, feeling the deity's gentle sigh.

“Someone as naïve as you, how do you survive in this world of deceit?”

You didn’t understand his words fully but felt compelled to trust him despite your doubts about the mysterious figure. Trusting the deity felt right.

He lightly held your hand, channeling a stream of energy through you, refreshing your entire being.

“Your energy is stable, no harm done.”

He began to leave, but you clutched his sleeve, almost causing him to fall onto you.

“But Xian Jun, you haven’t answered my plea…”

Meeting his amber gaze, you realized the deity's striking beauty, making you stare in awe until a soft cough snapped you out of it.

“Reckless, how can you be so disrespectful to your master?”

Before you could process his words, a clean set of clothes appeared before you.

“Do not disgrace your master with your attire. People might think I cannot support you.”

A warmth spread through you, making you tear up as you instinctively reached out to him.

“Thank you, Xian Jun… thank you.”

Ignoring formalities, you saw him as your savior. His stiff arm slowly patted your shoulder in a gentle, comforting gesture.

“I hope you will learn much from this master.”

********************************************************************

“Master! Master! Your disciple is here!”

Your voice echoed through the forest. A hand paused over a guqin, looking towards the approaching figure, now resembling a young immortal.

“Good, you’ve arrived. What about the book…”

You pouted.

“Master, must I continue copying texts? It’s been three months of nothing but copying. Isn’t it enough to learn and practice the circulation of spiritual energy?”

“I’ve told you, understanding the principles and operations of all things is essential before using any technique or power.”

He gently guided a fallen bird to the ground with a breeze.

“Everything has a balance. You can borrow nature’s force to maintain harmony, but reckless actions disrupt this balance, resulting in backlash.”

You pondered the fallen bird and asked,

“If you hadn’t helped, it would have died. Could you revive it?”

His cold response pierced through your heart.

“Life and death are part of the cycle. Altering fate is forbidden. Best not to dwell on it.”

He stood, heading towards the pavilion where you often studied. Noticing your silence, he added,

“Flowers bloom and wither; that is the cycle of life. Would you want them to always bloom or always wither?”

Your heart lightened, you smiled warmly.

“I may not fully understand, but whether blooming or withering, I just want to see them with you.”

His composure wavered momentarily before he replied,

“Am I not here with you now?”

He resumed walking but added a final remark that made you hurry after him with a bright smile.

“Autumn is near; if you wish to see, only withered flowers are left.”

[tamayula-hl]

It's been a long time since I've posted as my daughter and I have both been in bed with the flu and Covid! And once again I apologise for posting an article that is disturbing the atmosphere of HL fandom.

I have discussed the false accusation of trace plagiarism levelled against me with @freewld and have received an apology from her saying that it was a misunderstanding.

Here is a verified image of this case (Twitter/X)

I am now deeply relieved that we were able to end the discussion with a result that convinced her of my innocence. If it was a misunderstanding, I am willing to end it all this time. I would like to end this false accusation racket with a discussion with her. I will refrain from mentioning the matter once and for all (unless another disturbing incident occurs), and I hope that you will refrain from further mention of it too. I also do not want any slanderous behaviour, excessive criticism, speculation or falsehoods towards her, so I strongly urge you all to refrain from doing so. (Just in case , I have compiled screenshots and other evidence regarding the defamation of me that I have received in this row, and submitted and consulted with lawyers and others)

She also requested that I make a correction announcement on four points, which I would like to make here.

She said she conducted the survey with the intention of "using it as one reference for the opinions of her followers".

Tamayula's wish was the reason she decided to make the suspicion of plagiarism public.

She did not vote on the survey from multiple accounts to give herself an advantage.

She only made her Twitter account private after the survey was invalidated.

My verified public article was written in Japanese, which I wrote in a very confused and upset state, and translated into English and published at DeepL. Therefore, it was very difficult to understand and there were many phrases that may have led to your misunderstanding. I would like to apologise deeply for the confusion caused to everyone by my misunderstanding and incomprehensible article, and at the same time, I would like to correct it here. Although it has taken me a long time to respond, I have corrected the English text of the article on Tumblr and made it private, and on Twitter, I have deleted the tweet that referred to the survey.

I was very upset by the false accusations that suddenly fell upon me, and I sincerely regret that I repeatedly exposed myself in an emotional and unsightly manner, and that I failed to respond correctly to the incident. I cannot thank enough those who were kind to me and gave me warm words and those who believed in my innocence. I am sorry, but I will refrain from replying to you now, because if I do so, it is likely to cause an uproar again, but your words of encouragement and support, which I received at a time when I was feeling quite emotionally drained, gave me tremendous emotional support, more than you can imagine. Thank you very much. I am deeply grateful.

As for my future creative activities, I plan to continue with both Tumblr and Twitter as they are now. (However, I intend to move at the end of March in my real life and will be very busy for a few months with preparations and my new life, so my activities will be quite low-key for the time being). My interest in HL, Seb and Omi has not changed, and I am still motivated to paint, but in reflecting on the current turmoil, I now realise that I was very easily influenced by other people's creative styles, and that I had a vague idea of what the boundaries of inspiration were. In the future, I will continue to be self-conscious about my own dangerous values and make every effort to correct them, and if I have used a work as a reference, I will clearly state it and do my utmost not to cause trouble for others as an artist.

Finally, I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused to so many people. And to those of you who have been so warm and thoughtful, once again, thank you very much indeed 🙏 I will continue to do my best in drawing from now on!